Sien, Ilien
by niewypowiedziane
Summary: Tony is bringing up his autistic son. The world - and the Avengers - are oblivious. They just think Tony is being typical self when he disobeys orders or just disappears. Encounters through years. Pepper, Rhodey, Natasha, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Clint, the team.
1. Pepper

**29.12.2007 / Pepper**

Of course, Tony has to call Pepper when she has her few precious days off for Christmas.

As soon as she sees the number on the screen of her phone, she goes up to her old room and closes the door, knowing that this is very likely to end in a shouting match and her family definitely doesn't need such a questionable pleasure.

When she says _hello_ to the phone in her hand, she is half-expecting a call from prison or some remote location where Tony got lost, or maybe a drunken brag or a set of complains about how stupid _insert name_ is. She certainly doesn't expect Tony to speak quietly, sounding tired, unsure, but with a certain powerful note.

'How do you make the best tomato soup?' he asks simply and Pepper blinks, dumbfounded.

'_What?_'

'How do you make the best tomato soup?' Tony repeats in the same calm voice and then Pepper knows something is very wrong.

'Oh god, it's Christmas, what have you got yourself into this time?!' she exclaims, running her hand through her hair unconsciously, messing up the carefully crafted hairstyle.

'I just need to make tomato soup because I can't call caterers and I know that you can answer my question and I promise I will behave and no gossip rag appearance for a month? No PR disasters for a month, come one, just in exchange for one simple –'

'Don't try to sweet-talk me,' Pepper cuts in angrily. Everyone is waiting for her downstairs and she gets to see them once a year and he calls to ask for a _recipe_? That's a whole new level of absurd.

'Please,' Tony adds, his voice cracking a bit over the connection. 'I will explain everything when you are back.'

_This is a bad decision_, Pepper tells herself, _nothing good has ever come from such promise._ But she sits on the edge of her bed, playing with her ponytail and ruining her hair further and instructs him in Tony-language on making tomato soup.

'You are an angel,' he tells her before hanging up; that _is_ out of character, and she doesn't even get to say bye. Or shout at him.

She tries not to wonder what the whole call was about, but she can't stop thinking for the next three days. By the end of the family reunion, like every year, she decides that the time spent with relatives is precious and necessary, but full six days of doing nothing, being called Ginny and listening to embarrassing stories from her childhood and comments about how she is wasting her carrier opportunities being Stark's PA is a bit too much.

* * *

On December 29th she is back in Malibu. There are a few things that she still needs to take care of very soon. One of them, according to a message on her phone, is now to cancel Tony's reservation for Barcelona for the New Year's eve. It is last minute, but not something that he hasn't done before – just why, Pepper really wants to know why.

The answer becomes pretty obvious as she finally enters the room where Tony is – one of the guest rooms, JARVIS informed her – and there is a small kid sitting on the floor, a scrawny dark-haired boy that can't be older than six; he seems to be playing with the action figure that he has in his hand, but Pepper can't quite figure what exactly he is doing.

And Tony, when she stops in the door, he gets up from the floor where he was sitting next to the boy. He's clean shaven but has dark bags under eyes; Pepper can tell that he is exhausted, but at the same time he looks genuinely happy, and that doesn't happen so often, she is the one who knows best.

'This is Evelyn,' Tony says simply, standing next to her and following her gaze.

'Ohmygod,' Pepper breathes, blinking, suddenly realizing that it's really happening; it's rather hard to believe in what she's seeing. 'I knew this was going to happen one day, I just _knew it_ – that's why you called me? You need to feed –'

'My son.'

'– your son? Your _son_? Ah,' Pepper takes a few deep breaths, trying not to panic. Tony makes this _I am sorry I wanted good this time I promise_ face that he's learned works best on her. That is very, very mean, she decides.

The kid doesn't seem to acknowledge their presence at all, focusing all his attention on the set of action figures that he has in front of him. He doesn't seem to play, now that she's been observing him for a longer moment, he just moves them from one place to another methodically, hands moving quicker and quicker, shoulders tensing; Pepper has just spent enough time with all her young cousins to recognize that there's going to be a tantrum soon –

'Easy there. Try heptagon now,' Tony calls from her right, and the boy seems to relax a tiniest bit and starts to reconfigure the toys yet again. In a few moments, the figures are standing in lines, creating a neat figure.

Then he tears the setup down and jerks his head, as if nodding abruptly, before starting to set the toys again.

Pepper looks away from the boy – _Evelyn_, she reminds herself, but the word sounds strange on her tongue – to stare at Tony. He's observing the boy intently, biting his lip, hands resting on hips. He doesn't look like himself much at the moment: no goatee, no designer sunglasses, no flashy fitted suit, not even a motor oil-stained t-shirt. So, no billionaire or mad genius appearance. He looks just… ordinary.

'How?...' she manages to utter, still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that there _is_ a real child sitting in front of her and well, it's not crying or anything, she wouldn't have expected the man she's known for years to do as much as feed and bath someone else, since he forgets about to do that himself –

'His mother died a month ago,' Tony tells her in a quiet voice. The boy keeps repeating his game without as much as turning around. 'Annis – we broke up a few months before I hired you. We've been together for like a year? My longest relationship so far,' he chuckles humorlessly. 'Evelyn was born half a year after we split up. I've known about him from the beginning. I helped them with money and everything… Yeah. She was bringing him up. Then – she died in a car accident. Stupid death. He's been staying with his grandmother for a month, but she couldn't handle him.'

Pepper frowns at the choice of Tony's words, but he doesn't seem to notice.

'I went to take him on Christmas Eve.'

'Oh. So Olivia didn't come by?'

Tony actually laughs at that wholeheartedly.

'No, I don't think she will be around anytime soon…'

'Is it the first time you've met – him?' Pepper asks reluctantly, wondering if it's something he should inquire about – but then, Tony lives his life on front pages of newspapers, so he doesn't exactly think of privacy the same way other people do.

'No, no, he knows me. Not well enough, but that must do for now. Would be much, much worse if he didn't… I know, now you're going to ask me why didn't you know and I can't really give you much more than saying that I didn't want anyone to know. I've been seeing him once in two, three months and Annis was happy with that.'

Pepper nods and looks back at the boy. He still hasn't moved at all, hands still choosing the toys and putting them from one place to another, forming a different deliberately-looking structure each time. She opens her mouth to ask, but before she can form a question, Tony speaks up.

'I – Evelyn is autistic. But he's doing pretty well, considered. We found games we both like.'

_Autism, autistic, _Pepper makes a quick mental search, but besides a few random information she's heard here and there she doesn't know anything about the condition. It's just – a big problem, isn't it? She's quite sure of that, and Tony…

'We've known for three years now. Annis was taking a good care of him. He's been getting better, I will spare you the details now. Later. Sometime a lot later. We still need to do a lot today.'

'_We_,' Pepper repeats. It's strange to hear that word from Tony's mouth when it doesn't mean him and his girl-for-the-day or his supposed love of his live. And even then it is rare – _how_ did he suddenly became remotely responsible? 'Are you going to… keep him?'

'What else do you think I could do?' Tony snaps, but then gives her an apologetic smile. 'Sorry. I know what you're thinking – no, I really know. I might not behave like that, but I do know myself. And I'm _not_ letting someone lock him up somewhere, or some random people take care of him. That's just – just no.'

'So, he is staying,' Pepper summarizes, trying to process what has been happening for the last couple of minutes. She has expected all kinds of strange and unexpected things from Tony _but_ something like this. A child. A boy. A son. 'Well, you will need –'

'JARVIS took care of everything,' Tony informs her. 'I should have everything we might need just after New Year. Right now, we're managing without all the fancy stuff. He has some toys back from his house.'

Just then, the boy throws the last figurine into the others, making them falls, and backs away abruptly. Tony moves quickly and moment later he's by the boys side, whispering something into his ear. Evelyn doesn't give any indication of listening, but he doesn't move any further. Tony doesn't touch the boy, but stays close, talking for a few more moments, then after a brief pause and another nod from the boy, squeezes his arm lightly, removing his hand quickly. _Doesn't like physical contact, note_, Pepper orders herself silently, and suddenly she is feeling very scared, well, terrified, because she's never been good with children and she doesn't know how to approach a – regular kid, is she allowed to say that? Not to mention a one with a developmental disability –

Tony does seem strangely at ease though, even if Pepper can tell that he really needs a good eight hours of sleep, not like something so prosaic ever bothered him.

Finally, the boy turns around slowly and Pepper can see how he really looks: he's definitely Tony's, that's rather striking; he has the same eyes and the same cheekbones and lips. His face is still and guarded and he doesn't look anywhere near Pepper's face, but he does wave in her direction before turning back to Tony, who whispers something more and gets up. Evelyn takes the figure he threw and puts it back in series.

'… you seem good with him,' Pepper states finally, still having trouble believing completely that she's just said that and that it is very true.

'Gotta. No one else is going to be,' Tony replies easily, almost managing not to sound grave.

Pepper decides to turn in early. She will have a lot of homework to do in the morning; they all will have _so_ _much_ to learn.

* * *

**A/N: **I don't have any personal experience with autism and all I know about it is information from several psychology/psychiatry books and internet communities for autistic people and parents with autistic kids. Please note that some unpleasant comments are due to ignorance or lack of knowledge of certain characters and are not my opinions or universal truths. I hope you find this story believable and enjoy it anyway. & I looove feedback :)


	2. Rhodey

**12.02.2008 / Rhodey**

When Rhodey finally goes back to the US after his three months of service in Middle East, he is greeted by a cold weather and a new commanding officer who seems to be a rightful bastard, but still needs to be addressed with best military-style sweet tone. As soon as Rhodey leaves the base, granted a week of holidays, he goes to his apartment and decides to do nothing but sleep, rest and watch stupid TV in _English_.

That is, he makes these plans totally counting on Tony to be at his door in a few hours, dragging him to some bar or a new club he's discovered, and getting totally smashed together. Rhodey would protest against it, but agree to go in the end, because that's how things always work.

Tony doesn't come the first day and then the second, doesn't even call. Rhodey is already bored with the doing-nothing; sure he'd like to enjoy it like any normal person, but apparently he is not one of them and dealing with Tony Stark for far too long made him strive for _adventure_ more than he's ever admit, even to himself.

On the third day, he calls Tony, but no one picks up the phone. Rhodey leaves a message via JARVIS, something along these lines: _I remember you told me you were going to have all fun from now on without me, man, but I didn't think you were serious. If you are not completely drunk or lost somewhere just contact me so that I know you haven't killed yourself via some of your more mindless experiments yet._

Tony doesn't call back and neither does JARVIS, so Rhodey decides to call Pepper. This is quickly becoming really ssupicious.

'Pepper, I've been calling Tony since I came back, he's not responding and JARVIS just lets me leave messages but doesn't want to explain what this is about – is Tony okay? Has he done something to himself this time?'

'Tony is gone for two weeks,' Pepper replies, confused. It seems that Rhodey was supposed to know, otherwise she'd be ranting already.

'Oh? Where is he gone then? We were supposed to –' he starts, but Pepper cuts in, her voice somewhere in the verge of panic and laughter.

'God, he hasn't told you? Of course he hasn't told you,' she speaks quickly, as if she was out of breath. Now, that is kind of scary.

'Hasn't told me _what_?' Rhodey insists, but he is fully aware that trying to push Pepper is not going to bring any results. If neither Tony nor her want him to know, whatever it is…

Pepper goes silent on the other end of line for a few long moments before speaking up.

'You need meet with him. He will be back on Saturday – I will talk to him, okay?'

'Okay,' Rhodey agrees, since he doesn't know what else he can do. Pepper says goodbye and hangs up and he finds himself digging out numbers to his Air Force buddies because hell, whatever is going on will require a lot, a lot of alcohol.

* * *

Saturday comes quick enough, and having been informed by JARVIS that Tony will be waiting for him from noon on, Rhodey decides to be in the mansion as soon as possible without looking to desperate. He doesn't really have any reputation to uphold when it comes Tony, but he is a man of principles and he likes his integrity just fine.

JARVIS lets him in the house and the first thing that Rhodey notices is that it is _quiet_. Tony usually has some music playing in the background, wherever he moves, and most of the time rather loud – and if he doesn't, it's either him talking to JARVIS or the A.I. talking to him or both of them arguing vehemently. But now it's just quiet.

And it smells like tomato and herbs.

If Rhodey could maybe come up with a reason as to why the music is down, he has no idea why Tony Stark's house smells of _food_, not the greasy takeout version, but _home cooked _food. For a moment he wonders if Tony is sick and someone is taking care of him, that would maybe explain something, but neither JARVIS not Pepper mentioned anything of this kind.

He goes to the kitchen, since the only slightest noise comes from the room, a soft bubble of boiling liquid and a remote clattering of metal against marble. There, Tony is standing by a counter with a knife in his hand, cutting something skillfully on the countertop. _Cooking_.

_Maybe I was abducted by aliens, _Rhodey can't help but wonder.

'Tony, am I seeing what I'm seeing?' he asks, taking a few steps ahead. 'Or have you made a perfect android based on yourself to do the boring stuff and you're in fact somewhere on Hawaii, drinking umbrella-ed cocktails and having fun?'

'Your imagination will never cease to amaze me,' replies a voice that is definitely Tony's.

'I learnt that from spending too much lime of my life with you,' Rhodey counters, coming up to stand next to Tony, who has just finished chopping the herbs. 'Tony, no, seriously – what is going on? Pepper said I _need_ to meet with you. Has something happened?'

'You… could say so, I guess,' Tony replies, throwing the herbs into the soup and cleaning the countertop with a kitchen towel. 'Or, to be truthful, something happened about… six and a half years ago.'

That's enough said for Rhodey to understand what the whole story is about, and honestly, but he is very, very surprised anyway; sure, there has always been a _possibility_, given how many women Tony has slept with, honestly, but six and a half years – 'It's Annis', right?' he asks, grimacing at the memory of that particular relationship. It was one of those very few times that he's seen Tony really, really broken and not managing to hide it from the world. Then, apparently, they decided to be friends and Rhodey never understood why Tony would do that to himself – but he suddenly gets it very well now.

'_He_ is Annis', yeah,' Tony confirms softly. Apparently that still isn't a good conversation subject.

'So, what exactly has happened? You found out?'

'No, not really,' Tony murmurs. 'I – I've known from the beginning. Annis – she is dead, Rhodey. Car accident. The most mundane deaths of all.'

'Oh,' Rhodey manages, but he really, really doesn't know what to say now. Tony's never felt comfortable discussing Annis and now it's just going to be a whole new level of avoidance, best Stark-style. Or he is going to rant about it as if it didn't matter and think he is fooling somebody.

Rhodey can't _not_ ask.

'And – the boy?'

'He's sleeping,' Tony replies quietly, eyes locked on the spoon he is stirring the soup with.

Rhodey blinks and then gapes, unmoving, registering the exactly meaning of the words.

'You mean _he_ is _here_,' he states, shaking his head in disbelief. This is officially crazy.

'Evelyn. Yes. He is taking a nap upstairs. He doesn't really sleep well at nights… What? Why are you staring at me like that? – No. Don't answer,' Tony states, washing his hands and finally turning around to face Rhodey. He looks tired, but tired has always been his style. 'I really can guess what you are thinking,' he continues, looing Rhodey in the eyes. He probably really can. 'But I can assure you I'm not crazy.'

'Annis died and you took in her child –'

'Our child,' Tony quips in, raising an eyebrow.

'– your child, okay. Despite the fact that you refused to talk about her for half a decade, at least,' Rhodey let out, incredulously 'And what, you are going to be a daddy now? Stop partying, stop drinking, just be an old mellow pops, driving your kid to school and to karate classes, throwing birthday parties and going to cinema to watch cartoons? Somehow, I can't see that happening,' he finished; and as he says all these the words aloud, it makes them sound even more absurd than they sounded in his head.

'No, actually, I don't think I will do most of those things,' Tony replies. 'Because I am still _me_ and I still have my responsibilities and my work and Pepper can attest to that, I took two weeks off but I've been working normally before that. Easy. It's all – not the whole reason, though,' he ends, sighing and checking on the soup on the stove.

'And what is the whole reason?'

'Well, Evelyn,' Tony states and Rhodey is just going to speak up, but Tony silences him with a gesture. 'I'm not contradicting myself, it's just that it doesn't – I'm not – he needs a different kind of things.'

'Oh,' Rhodey utters, his brain working really fast. 'Isn't that what children usually need?'

'It's just – he is autistic, Rhodey. He really needs a _different kind_ of things,' Tony replies with a small smile that Rhodey just doesn't understand. So, it's a special needs child what makes it all even a bigger mess, and what is Tony actually thinking? That he is going to take care of the boy by himself?

'He is autistic,' he repeats hollowly, mind blank. Toby nods. Autistic. _Fuck_.

As much as Rhodey would to say that he gets it, he really, really doesn't. He's never been the type to like interacting with children and neither was Tony, he thought, the eternal bachelor, the world-famous playboy, the craziest person around…

'He's been staying here for a month and a half,' Tony offers, checking the soup again; the kitchen is filled with a very pleasant smell now.

'He's been – _what_? And you didn't tell me?' Rhodey exclaims, _what the fuck, he's always shared everything with me, every stupid shit, we've always talked, we've been _friends_, and he just didn't tell me_?

But Tony ignores him.

'It's been a tough couple of weeks, he's been acclimating and getting to know the house and the space around. We've – we've had some great moments together.'

'What about _the rest_ of moments?' Rhodey asks quickly.

'You don't have to be mean,' Tony replies quietly. 'I'm not that naïve to expect everything to be good. Obviously. But, fuck, we are _both_ trying. Really. And no, I'm _not_ going to bring him up alone, do you really think I could? I don't think any autistic child should be just left parents and no one else. He requires – professional help,' Tony states, running hand through his hair absentmindedly. Rhodey just stares. 'I've had like a dozen people come over so far, he liked some of them but I need to decide…'

'Wow,' Rhodey says a bit unsurely, because he still feels as if he were in alternate reality. 'You _are_ serious about this.'

Tony sighs and rolls his eyes theatrically. If he was anyone but Tony Stark, he would probably be offended or something by now, but he isn't stupid enough to expect people to just accept _him_ choosing to be a _parent _without doubt.

'Rhodey,' Tony starts, quietly, moving away to grab bowls and spoons from the cupboard to set them on the table. 'I'm not doing this because I have to, I know, I don't, and I'm not doing it because I want to compensate him for all the time I wasn't there or because you know how much of a fucking bastard by father was. It's just – I know how absurd this must sound to you, believe me – Evelyn is just great. And he is my _son_. I know, no rational reason. But he is. And we connect well, he likes numbers, he's too quick with them for his own good, he's a picky eater and doesn't sleep too well, he throws perfect tantrums and doesn't listen when you talk to him way too often – I'd say we understand each other pretty well. Somehow it's been working so far.'

'I don't know what to tell you, man,' Rhodey states truthfully. Now, he's even more confused and he really thought he reached the limit a few minutes earlier.

'No need to say anything, cupcake, sweetheart, Just – think about it, or something, I don't know what I am supposed to say now, since I should be honest, and all I'm really good at is bullshitting –'

'No, you were doing a great job just a moment ago,' Rhodey tells him seriously.

'Thanks, I guess? But,' Tony says glanding at his watch 'I've got to go up and –'

'Sure,' Rhodey nods and Tony disappears, but Rhodey can hear footsteps a moment later, and then Tony comes in with – the boy, Tony is walking two steps behind the child. There is really no doubt that Evelyn is Tony's, Rhodey notices. He's seen photos of Tony when he was a kid, well, the whole world did, and the boy looks like Tony's copy, except he seems a bit taller and skinnier. Noticing Rhodey, he blinks a few times and turns around to look at Tony who gives him a smile.

'Yes, this is Rhodey, my friend that I told you about. He is a soldier from the Air Force.'

The boys looks back at Rhodey, cocking his head, and examines his whole silhouette for a few moments before giving Rhodey a small wave with his fingers and moving to the table, seemingly uninterested.

'Doesn't he –'

'He's been refusing to speak since Annis died,' Tony admits. 'He _can_, but just doesn't want to. He's been – you've been going to SLP, right, Evelyn?' Tony asks the boy, who gives him a curt nod, not looking away from his hands. 'Speech and language therapy – I – well, me and Pepper, we're still looking for the right people to continue it here. And a few others – but that's not a talk for dinnertime,' Tony finishes, moving to the stove and taking the pan.

Rhodey nods to himself and sits by the table, vis-à-vis the boy, leaving the spot on Evelyn's right empty. Tony moves around, pouring the soup in quick moves without spilling even a drop, when he is done he leaves the pan on the countertop and slips onto the free chair.

'This is really good,' Rhodey comments after he's swallowed a few spoonfuls of the soup. It _really_ is.

'Well, had to learn, Evelyn is picky with food, I told you – but this is something he'll never turn down. And health-approved, you know, vegetables and all that.'

Rhodey makes a non-committal noise of agreement and finishes his food while Tony and Evelyn do the same. It's so surreal, so totally strange, to see a young boy sitting in Tony's kitchen, in the space that has been so far reserved for Tony himself, his very few friends and hordes – okay, maybe just dozens – of women. And people who came over to the legendary parties that Tony's been hosting from time to time. Now there is a boy and he doesn't seem to fit, looking small and fragile in the middle of all the sharp modern furniture, the glass and the metal that the house is.

The boy seems to be disinterested in everything but his food that he's eating quite eagerly, but it's taking him a long time because he is using a _teaspoon_. Huh. Apparently it's on purpose, though, as Tony has given him the piece of cutlery. The boy also seems to be playing a virtual piano with his other hand's fingers, again, Tony doesn't seem surprised by that, he's just sitting staring at his _son_ with that small smile.

* * *

Rhodey agrees to stay, since Tony asks, and spends the afternoon observing Tony and Evelyn together, staying a bit in the background. The boy doesn't talk, but he manages to communicate, choosing to _show_ what he means instead of saying it. It probably doesn't work on more complicated things, but seems good enough for just playing.

Rhodey notices the not-so-little things, now that he knows to look out for them: Tony almost never touches the boy, even when he is very close, he keeps a few inches of distance, he does act – normal, though, when it's the boy to reach out to him, but that happens only two or three times. Evelyn doesn't meet anyone's eyes, doesn't acknowledged understanding what Tony is telling him, even though he obeys Tony's words; and keeps doing this tick with his fingers, too, moving and flexing them all the time when his hands are not directly occupied. But, despite the fact that Rhodey can't make himself ignore and look past these _quirks _– _boy that makes me sound like an insensitive jerk _– he can see that the kid and Tony really do seem… compatible.

Tony is really, really making an effort, and that makes it even harder for Rhodey to compare his behavior the last time they – in November, on a pretty wild party – and now. He can tell it's the same person, but not really. And it's been only three months.

Rhodey tells Tony exactly that when Evelyn is finally put to bed in his bedroom, after eleven – Rhodey's had a glimpse inside and has been rather surprised at the fact that there is nothing but a few pieces of furniture, light grey walls and brown wooden floor. No toys, no posters, no nothing.

'Sensory-free room, much easier to fall asleep for him,' Tony explains and Rhodey suddenly realizes how much he doesn't know.

'So, what with SI, then?' Rhodey asks after Tony's left the bedroom when Evelyn is finally asleep. He's been waiting in the living room, with a glass of scotch in his hand. Tony pours himself one, too, and sits down next to Rhodey on the sofa. 'You're – going public with him?'

Tony just laughs around the edge of the glass.

'Sure as hell no. I – I'm making _weapons_, cupcake. I've got enough enemies myself and I'm not planning to endanger my kid. And media, you know the media, I don't want him to have to deal with any of that. Sometime, I'm sure, But not soon,' Tony explains, taking a sip of his alcohol. 'Now, I want find him school and good therapists and someone who is going to stay with him when I can't, because – I won't suddenly become a hermit who does nothing but stays home and fancies being smitten with his kid 24/7, buttercup. I'll work, I'll do everything I need. It's just… I've got a point of focus now. I just – I just know I've been missing that, okay? I kept getting distracted with dozens of things. And now, suddenly, I have something that'll be the first and foremost, and it's been good. You know.'

'No, I don't really, but lets pretend I do –' Rhodey starts, but Tony again doesn't let him finish.

'So? You're gonna stick around now, or you will be the mysterious absent uncle?'

'I don't know _a thing_ about children, Tony, besides that I can't stand my young cousins whenever I am forced to meet with the whole family –'

'I don't know anything about _kids_,' Tony cuts in with his trademark smirk and an arched eyebrow. 'But I know a thing or two about Evelyn.'

That, in Rhodey's book, makes sense.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks to all of you for the favs and follow and reviews! I'm really happy to read all your lovely words of encouragement :)


	3. Natasha

**26.05.2011 / Natasha**

It's Natasha's second week of working for Stark and she's already had the time of her live in Monaco. She's a trained assassin and spy and she can do a protection detail and impersonate Natalie Rushman from legal perfectly, but it doesn't mean that losing the person she was supposed to observe in a crowd and the finding out he was riding his race car and then got attacked by a tech-madman is her kind of fun.

Maybe it was naïve, but no matter how annoying Stark was, she was hoping for a bit of rest in Monaco; nice views, good food, easy work… Only that of course it wasn't.

And now they are all back in Malibu, Pepper in her office, Natasha in hers, pretending he was doing her work instead of writing Fury a brief report from the previous day; Stark – in his house, doing whatever he might be doing in the workshop. Dibbling with his cars or with his armor, it doesn't matter that much to her; she's getting more and more data for her field assessment. Something is wrong with Stark – that much is obvious. He's been disappearing, he look bored and tired more than he doesn't, he's sickly pale with _road rash_, as he calls it. And he is acting out of norm, even for an eccentric billionaire.

Natasha doesn't allow herself strong emotions, but she can't make herself like the man even a bit. Sure, he's _funny_ sometimes, but the humor is usually dirty or sexist or confusing; he's elegant and handsome, but that doesn't count much in her opinion. He is, certainly, obsessed with himself, behaving as if he believed that the whole world truly resolves around him; it doesn't help much that big part of the first world, at least, really does.

Also, he and Pepper has some disagreement and now they don' talk to each other, so Natasha is a bit of an errand girl between them two, even if Pepper tries not to make her fell like one.

And there is that terrible party to bound to happen in three days and even if the guest list and the plans aren't as crazy as they used to be, when the whole America would hear about it in newspapers the next day, it surely is annoying as she will have to act as if she was having fun.

Now, though, Pepper asked her to take some papers to Tony that he needs to sign as soon as possible, apologizing for asking her for such mundane things; Natasha smiles and says it's no problem and it really isn't, she could use a short trip in the field instead of being cooped up in an office. It means just more time to observe her object of assessment.

She arrives at the mansion around eleven and she's let in after about a minute, having informed the A.I. butler why she is there, and waits for Stark in the living room. The A.I. tells her that _Mister Stark will come up in a moment_; she guesses it could mean a minute or half an hour, so she sits down on the sofa inconspicuously and observes the space with her trained eyes, using the moment of time to do her work.

The place looks nice enough, for a completely modern house; Natasha isn't sure if there are special robots or someone comes by to clean the whole space. There are few personal items laying around, it's mostly just furniture and pieces of modern art that obviously were chosen by Potts. Natasha is surprised there isn't any alcohol on display, but well, Stark probably has a special room just for booze.

Then she takes out her phone and taps aimlessly, writing a random message to Clint, only to appear less eager to explore the space; a moment later she can hear footsteps – but it doesn't sound like Stark. Natasha's face and pose remain unchanged, but she's mentally checking the space again, in case it was a threat.

But it's just a thirty-something small woman, with dark hair in ponytail and face covered with freckles. She seems rather surprised to see Natasha waiting in the room; her brown furrow in confusion.

'Good morning,' Natasha says politely, putting on a perfect smile; she's never met that woman before and no one has mentioned her, so it's a perfect occasion to find out who she is. Well, that is a bit pointless, since _many_ women found themselves waking up in Stark's mansion so far. This one looks – a bit familiar with the space, though. She looked at Natasha almost as someone who found a stranger sitting in their living room. 'I'm sorry, do you know where is Mister Stark? I need him for a moment for Stark Industries-related business.'

'_Sorry_, _I don't speak English,_' the woman replies in perfect French with an apologetic smile. Natasha is even more curious now, but she just smiles a bit more.

'_Do you know where Mister Stark is? I need him urgently to sign these papers,_' she replies in the same language, lifting the folder that was sitting in her lap.

'_He is in the workshop,_' the woman replies instantly. '_I am sure JARVIS has informed him of your arrival.'_

Huh. Natasha nods and keeps the smile on her face as he woman walks past her and goes to the area where the kitchen is, as well as the other living room and guest rooms, so, no guessing where exactly she might be headed.

A moment later Stark himself comes; he's wearing his usual homey clothes, as in jeans and a t-shirt, his hands for once not smeared with motor oil.

'JARVIS said you have something _urgent_?'

'Miss Potts asked me to bring these back to her before the afternoon board meeting, and since that is in a few hours, I'd say that it is urgent.'

'Well, if she says so,' the man agrees and sits down on the sofa next to her. 'Gimmie.'

Natasha pushes a fountain pen and the folder across the table. There is about ten documents, all minor details but need to be done to prevent a big disaster, according to Potts' words, since her position as CEO was still vastly commented and usually negatively.

Stark makes his usual signatures with a flourish, leaving ink splattered on the pages as if he was a third-grader, but he doesn't seem to mind. Natasha observes him from up close, keeping her gaze pleasant and curious; it's hard not to notice the signs of the man's illness, if you know what to look for. And somehow, she wasn't aware that the man was capable of such emotions, well, of real emotions at all, he seems to be genuinely happy even if exhausted. Not just playing being happy and in good mood, but it's genuine.

'What's you name again, Miss Legal?' his voice breaks her musings, so she replies easily.

'Natalie Rushman.'

'Mhm,' he murmurs, flips through the pages to check if he's signed them all, and stands up.

And just then – Natasha feels as if she was blessed by fate, what a beautiful coincidence – the French woman enters the room again, holding a glass of juice and a something wrapped with brown paper and tied with a blue ribbon. What a great, great situation to get some intel on the mystery.

'_Madame Reuben,_' Stark greets her with a perfect French accent, glancing at the things she was holding for a second too long for it to be just casual.

'_Monsieur Stark_,' she replies in the same tone and gives him a beautiful smile, her eyes shining. Then she follows her gaze, looking at the food in her hands, and winks at him.

Natasha doesn't really know what to make of that other than that she isn't one of Stark's call girls, that for sure, and she isn't a stable relationship either; theoretically she could be anything from a private hairdresser to a cleaning lady, though her clothes and behavior suggest that she – if not _lives_ there – at least has been staying in the house for some time, as she feels so familiar with the space. Only what for?

'_I'll be going_,' _Madame _Ruben says and walks past Stark, not sparing him another glance, and goes upstairs.

Upstairs, Natasha knows, are guest rooms and Stark's master bedroom, a library and a games room and jacuzzi and who knows what else; Natasha herself has never gotten a chance to be up there for longer than a moment, she just is trained in listening.

No answers, though, and she'd really like some.

There is one more thing that she'd really like to know, and it's why one of the doors on the ground level which is supposed to be all open to everyone_ don't open_. She knows for sure that all of the rest _do_ and that's what Potts told her: the space is available to everyone who has an access to the house, who's been trusted to go inside.

So, since she is not getting any answers and she's running a bit short of time, so – she just asks straightforwardly, acting like a normal curious person, pulling off the role perfectly.

It's fascinating how Stark's features change dramatically for a fraction of second.

'Why would you check which of the door open and which don't?' he asks calmly, raising an eyebrow, but Natasha is too good at pretending herself to fall for this. He is – he is _worried._

Bingo.

'I was curious about the view,' she replies easily. 'Both you and Miss Potts asked me to feel at home, and I was told that in this area I can access all the rooms… I am sorry if I did something wrong.'

'Ah, of course,' Tony nods and turns around. 'JARVIS, lock Miss _Rushman_ out. Pepper can keep her if she wants, but I don't want to see her here again.'

Natasha blinks, stunned by the sudden and dramatic response, and the way he said her name, as if – but that's impossible –

'You thought I wouldn't figure you out?' Stark asks, staring out of the window with his back to her. 'I'm a genius, missy, and I'm called that for a reason. I double and triple check everyone who as much as sets a foot on these premises, and before you ask, yes, I did that to all the party guests and you are very proud and arrogant if you think I wouldn't, _Natasha_. Can I call you that?'

For a short moment Natasha is really speechless; all the intel they had on Stark said that he would overlook her because of her _physicality, _that he would be charmed with her face and her competences and all the background they've been creating for years, including underwear photo shoots in Tokyo… Fuck. And she can't even tell Coulson or anyone right now.

'Let's say you can,' she replies, getting up. 'How long have you known?'

'Since the third day you were here? And that's only because I was busy with other things – oh, that's sweet, your agency really underestimates me. Beautiful!' he exclaims, clapping his hands and then putting them in his pockets.

'I am here to help you, Stark,' she states, knowing that it's very likely going to be pointless, and she's not wrong.

He laughs, of course he does.

'I haven't really seen you helping me, so I don't have any qualms about actually getting you kicked out of here, _Romanov._ What does help in your agent-speak mean, anyway?'

Natasha considers about ten possibilities in the next two seconds, but the mission objective is to gather intel on Stark's state, since they already know it's palladium poisoning, and to somehow keep him alive until S.H.I.E.L.D. figures something out because they need him. So she decides to say the truth and go with it.

'I don't know yet,' she admits quietly. 'We know it's palladium poisoning and our teams are trying to mix something that will help with that.'

Tony just arches one eyebrow elegantly at that, his face shouting _so what?_

'Well, that is being very helpful,' he comments mockingly. 'Thanks for being a pain in the ass. Now, if you didn't mind just going?'

'You know very well that I can't just go, Stark. If you know my name, you know a lot about S.H.I.E.L.D. and you know we have authority to keep you locked down here for as long as we might need – and that we're paramilitary, so orders are orders. So you will go back to pretending you don't know me and I will go back to pretending to be just a woman from legal.'

'Are you, like really, threatening me?'

'If that's how you feel,' she admits, looking at him challengingly. 'We are the good guys, Stark,' she adds, deliberately copying one of Phil's favorite lines.

'Ooh that's rich, coming from you, Miss Spy,' he laughs easily, in his usual carefree manner, but then he gets serious again. 'Do you really think you can threaten me? I mean, I'm kind of the top five richest men in the world, I've got friends in literally every country on the Earth and that includes both Vatican and North Korea, I have my fucking brain and even if you took everything from me, I would just rebuild it all – but you know it all, so why do I have to tell you this?'

'Are you trying to threaten _me_ now, Stark?' Natasha asks flatly, despite her curiosity and annoyance with the man who really thinks he owns the world. Things are never that simple.

'No, I'm just stating facts, or something, I wouldn't know – well, if you are done, can you just remove yourself finally? You know that I'm kind of dying here and I really have lots of things to do before and I'm not wasting time on you –'

'I'm staying here, and you're going to behave responsibly,' Natasha repeats, this time with more strength to her voice, taking a step forward; why can't the man just see that they _are_ going to help him?

'No, you are not – JARVIS, let the woman out, will ya? Thanks. Perfect,' he states and turns around to leave; Natasha knows she must quickly catch his attention so that he won't just fly god-knows-where and disappear; she knows for sure that they will need him badly, as much as this pains the agency to admit, but he's really got the best tech and a great mind. So she decides to go for the trick from the beginning.

'Oh, and there is a matter of that locked room,' she repeats and smirks internally when he spins around, reacting the same violent way he did before.

'Leave. It. The. Fuck. Alone,' he spats.

Natasha considers; observing him closely; his movements are sharp and fierce, his eyes shining, his whole body tense. He is frowning slightly, looking her straight into the eye. Fear, fear, it all screams fear and _determination_.

'What do you want to keep safe so much that you don't care about sounding desperate?' she asks, putting the folder she's had in her hands down and crossing her arms on her chest.

'I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.'

Wow, quoting bad movies in a moment like this, the man's got class, Natasha decides.

'You can try,' she replies, cocking her head. 'If you succeeded, they would send someone else to babysit you.'

Tony blinks at that and scoffs and then smirks nonchalantly, as if he was_ amused._

'You haven't communicated with S.H.I.E.L.D. yet so they won't be here quickly if you call them now, and I'd have enough time to disappear of the face of the Earth – weren't you supposed to get those papers to Pepper _soon_?'

Natasha blinks, confused for a fraction of second. Ah, the stupid papers, _really_.

'We'd track you, Stark,' Natasha informs him ignoring his last sentence. 'I don't know if you're trying to make me think you aren't aware, be we are very close to all-powerful, and if I report that you've got a _secret_ you care about so much obviously, one that you don't want to share, S.H.I.E.L.D. is not going to leave you alone until they know.'

_This_ finally gets a reaction from Tony, although it's not what Natasha has expected; she thought he might be angry or irritated or just laugh again, and instead he is _pensive_ and looks worried, well, as much as he is able to appear worried with the air of nonchalance around him. And he looks just – so tired. Natasha _almost_ pities him, but it's her job to do what she does and say what she says, even if it's to a dying man.

'I could tell you,' he repeats in a very, very different tone, it's low and soft and compassionate, none of which she would have expected from him; maybe some of the things she wrote in her assessment need revising… 'And maybe you'd fucking understand then that not the whole world resolves around your grand affairs,' he adds vehemently. 'And if I was to tell you, I'd have to _trust_ you. You'd have to swear you won't say a word to anyone, even Fury or your handler, literally, no one. And you'd have to keep your word – if I told you, and you decided that I can _keep my secret_, could I trust you _not _to tell about anything to anyone? _Could I_? Because that's all I'm able to do.'

'You are not –'

'– in a position to negotiate, of course,' Stark finishes. 'Only that I don't give a fuck, I _can_ disappear and if you don't want me to you'll do what I want, take it or leave it. And if I know you've broken the promise – believe me, I _will_ know – let your imagination go wild,' he states, making a gesture with his hands.

'Okay,' Natasha agrees momentarily, knowing that whatever Stark might want to do, she can always tell Coulson of Fury without anyone knowing, _honestly_. He _wouldn't_ know. 'I _swear_ I won't tell anything about this to anyone,' she declares and somehow, the words sound much heavier and graver than she has expected.

Stark sigs and shakes his head.

'If S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't leave me alone after this, Miss Spy, I will be very, very angry,' he says quietly and she can tell that he's being serious, it's _almost_ scary. 'One tango, tango, sigma, JARVIS. You got that?'

'Action initiated, sir,' the A.I. replies promptly. 'Protocols coming into force. I will be waiting for final command.'

_Protocols_? Wow, Stark really had a big ego. Maybe bigger than she thought.

'Tell her to stay back,' he adds; JARVIS doesn't reply to that. For a few moments the room is almost completely silent; Natasha looks around subtly, trying to figure out what exactly is about to happen; they are not going to the locked room so obviously whatever was hidden there is _movable_, there are no indications of any change though – only that Stark is now _smiling_. Not smirking, not grinning, just a small smile playing on his lips; he is still tense and guarded and tired, but the smile almost makes the rest invisible.

Then, there are footsteps, much closer than she would have expected – and someone enters the room from behind Tony – _oh_.

It's – a child. No older than nine, ten, she can't really tell.

A child.

No wonder Stark was being so protective; even if Natasha has never, never expected the man to be _like this_, and she doesn't really have maternal instinct, she can almost understand his human reluctance.

The boy comes forward, his steps deliberate and perfectly executed, and stands next to Tony, completely ignoring her presence in the room. Stark stretches out a hand to him, but doesn't otherwise move or acknowledge the kid. It's long half a minute before the boy puts his hand into Tony's, still staring at the floor.

So the French woman must be a nanny.

'I could be persuaded to trust your dear agency with lots of things, but not with _my child_,' Stark informs her, staring at her, and his gaze is intense. 'Do you _understand_ now?'

Natasha partially understands, but she doesn't get why he would be – so protective, so guarded, so distrustful; it's just a child. Sure, potentially a high-target one and a media-center one, but that's just obvious when you are a Stark, no?

'No, you don't,' Stark breathes. 'Of course you don't, they probably had you sterilized back Russia, in addition to wiping human emotions form you…'

She keeps her expression unchanged, but that does hurt a bit.

Then the boy looks up at the ceiling somewhere near Tony's head – he is small, so he has to look up – and says something in such a rapid mix of English, French and some words Natasha doesn't recognize that she understands nothing. The child's behavior is _off_, she just needs a few more minutes to figure what exactly is the case, mentally cataloguing and assessing the boy's behavior.

'Yes, yes and no,' Stark replies easily, as if the way the boy spoke was no problem to understand. 'How am I supposed to call you?' he asks, looking at Natasha, his face completely calm now. Huh. That was quick.

'You know my name,' she replies straightforwardly.

'This is Natasha,' Stark tells the boy, his eyes fixed on the small figure again, and the kid finally meets his gaze for a second before looking away; he takes his free hand out of pocket and begins to tap on his leg as if he was doing it to match the rhythm of inaudible music.

'_Very good_,' Stark says in French and the two words are _so warm_. Natasha cannot _not _notice that.

The kid says something again and Stark laughs.

'I don't know,' he replies, then he looks at Natasha again. 'This is Evelyn, Miss Agent. You don't have to say hello. It's his room behind the _closed door_ and I'm going to have a talk with Pepper about how careless she is with the information she gives out to people. And before you ask how come you secret spies didn't know, I told you I can hide away from the world if I want, and that includes you, if I am determined enough. And I've been. He doesn't even have my surname, that would be too conspicuous. He's names after his mother. Morin.'

'French,' Natasha murmurs. 'Why are you telling me all this?'

'Oh, you mean I _shouldn't_?' Stark asks with a fake politeness. Then he looks at the boy, still standing almost like a statue on his side, and tells him something in that rapid mixture of languages Natasha, to her deep displeasure, can't understand. The boy frowns, shouts _no_ and runs out of the room; Tony lets go of his hand easily. '_It's eight to twelve, remember,_' he shouts after the kid. 'Evelyn doesn't really like strangers,' Stark tells he and starts walking to the kitchen. Natasha follows, because she doesn't have the full answer yet.

She stands in the doorway as Stark starts to move around the room and prepare what appears to be the kid's lunch; he doesn't pause for even a moment to think or check something, just walks there and back, picking up one thing and another as if it was a practiced dance; it's no more than three minutes before he is done. There is a sandwich with some kind of ham, a bowl of what looks like hummus with a row of carrot sticks on one side and an equal row of celery stick on the other, and a glass of rice milk.

When she's done mentally cataloguing all this, Stark suddenly appears on her side and offers her a glass of the rice milk and a plate with a sandwich. She raises one eyebrow perfectly, but he doesn't seem to mind, just takes his green drink and walks out of the kitchen. Just when they leave the room, the boy runs down the stairs, goes past them and into the kitchen. Tony doesn't even look back, just sits down on the sofa.

'Are you trying to bribe me now?' she asks, setting the glass and the plate on the coffee table.

'If I wanted to bribe you, I'd give you donuts, or at least chocolate chip,' Stark replies easily around the glass. 'It wouldn't work anyway, 'cause you'll tell your goons anyway. It's not poisoned,' he adds, pointing at the food.

'If you knew I'm going to tell them, why did you show me him?'

'I don't know really, I shouldn't have, hmm?' Stark states and puts his empty glass down. 'I don't know what your guys want to come up with, but I've tried everything about the poisoning, and nothing seems to work. At this point I might have a month of life, if I'm lucky, and half of it will be very, very painful… So, I don't know, you just seemed to me like someone who has a conscience? I won't stick around for too long, so I wanted to _nicely ask_ you to leave Evelyn alone. I think he'll have everything he might need, Pepper, she will make sure of that –'

'She doesn't know you're dying,' Natasha cuts in, wondering what his reaction will be; he just gives her a look and smirks.

'No, but she knows Evelyn and she will know what to do.'

'So, we will have to wait some time before there is a next Stark on the throne,' Natasha concludes. Stark laughs.

'Well, Evelyn's name isn't even Stark and I doubt it will be. Besides – don't play dumb, agent. I love my son with all my heart and all that, but he wouldn't be able to do that. Haven't I mentioned he _doesn't like _strangers?'

'Yes, you have,' she agrees. 'What is wrong with him?' she decides to ask, because it's the most direct route to understand both the boy's situation and Stark's approach.

'Nothing is wrong with him,' Stark replies, shaking his head disappointedly. 'He's autistic, Miss Spy, _nothing_ is wrong with him.'

'Oh,' Natasha breathes, the few pieces of the puzzle she's had all in place. Of course. She suspected, but didn't have any conclusive information, and that's it. She doesn't know enough about autism to make any decisions though. She knows that the whole world, though, would say that something is wrong with the kid.

'That's why I don't want media or anyone know about him. I'm not ashamed of Evelyn, mind you,' he states with a firm note, glaring at her. 'He is just not able to deal with all of that and I wouldn't want to force him to, because he'd end up hurt. He _will_ be hurt when I die, he was a mess when I came back from Afghanistan, but he will get over that. The world would never leave him alone if they knew he was mine.'

'I didn't know you could be that considerate,' Natasha comments and Stark scoffs at that.

Of course it makes much more sense now, because the man has a reason to behave and think differently. She was going to write _textbook narcissism _in her assessment, but this – even if an exception – makes him a different person as a whole, and Natasha can't help but wonder how much of what she's seen was just an Oscar-worthy performance.

'Just write whatever you were going to write in your magical notebook about me, you don't have to make any changes because of Evelyn, this all – it applies to him, and to him only. Besides, I don't know what you might need the assessment for, if I'll be dead soon enough.'

'We have faith in our people,' Natasha informs him, and it's the truth. 'They will find something.'

'I don't like faith, and I don't particularly like hope,' Stark states, getting up. Natasha hasn't touched the food, but he doesn't seem to mind, just takes the plates in his hands like a skilled waiter and goes back to the kitchen. The moment they enter, Evelyn jumps off his stool, says a word to Tony that she doesn't understand, again, and runs off.

'Carrot day, hmm,' Stark murmurs. He leaves Natasha's plate on the counter, tosses the celery sticks into a bowl and puts the rest of the dishes into the dishwasher. She would have expected him to have people for doing that, but if the kid doesn't like strangers…

'How old is he?' she asks suddenly, the words pouring from her lips before she can think.

'He'll be ten in July.'

'Does he go to school?' Natasha's voice continues, and she really, really can't tell where did this curiosity come from, she is _never_ like that.

'Yup, it's a small private place in LA. He's got great care there,' Stark replies between gulps of his green drink. 'He's really good at Maths and languages, even if he's not the biggest fan of actually talking.'

Natasha makes notes of everything Stark says and _how _he says it; she can't not notice the warm and caring note in the man's voice that she'd never accuse him of otherwise. She would have expected a man – an arrogant genius like Stark – to be… disappointed? That his kid is not perfect and as incredibly smart as him. But he just seems to be happy and proud, which is a bit surprising.

'You've got to take those to Pepper,' Stark interrupts her thoughts, waving the folder she hasn't realized he took from the living room at her.

'She knows about him?' Natasha asks, or maybe just states, taking the folder. That makes him laugh bitterly.

'You know Pepper, of course she does. You should tell her what stopped you. You can be as honest with her as super spies get, I will tell her everything anyway. Minus about _me. _Deal?'

'I won't tell anyone,' Natasha blurts out; she's really breaking records of thoughtlessness today, but – it is sincere, and as soon as she says it, she _knows_ that she will keep her word. For whatever unconscious reason her mind decided it will be the right thing to do.

'Oh,' Stark says, fixing his eyes on her. 'That's new.'

'Don't ask me why, because you confuse me and I don't know myself,' Natasha explains, letting her words be more sincere than in front of everyone but two people in the world. 'But I won't tell _anyone_. And – we _will_ have something to help you. We've got to.'

'Why are you suddenly so determined?' he questions, taking one of the celery sticks and biting into it with a couching sound.

What does she day now? What _should_ she say?

'I…' she starts and shrugs. 'I guess you are a better person I thought you were.'

'Well, the feeling might be mutual, _Natasha_,' Stark replies when he's swallowed the bite. Then he smiles; his eyes gleam but seem even more tired than he looks otherwise; he is too thin and his skin has this sick tone, and there is a rash here and there on his exposed skin, but he really looks – happy. He has a month to live and with his son, he is happy.

Natasha offers him a tiniest smile, hugs the folder to her chest and leaves, heels clicking, feeling a pleasant warmth in her chest at the thought that she's finally starting to make the right decisions, to do the good things. She is _so_ going to S.H.I.E.L.D. R&D to threaten those idiot scientists into working 24/7 until they find _something_.

'Evelyn,' she whispers to herself when she leaves the house.

The name fits very well, she decides.

* * *

**A/N: **Please let me know if you like the piece. I'm not sure I got Natasha right, I hope you like my take :) And thanks for all your support!


	4. Steve

**01.06.2012 / Steve**

It's over a months since Steve's wake-up and two weeks after the battle of New York when the Avengers are supposed to meet with the general public regarding the attack.

Steve isn't used to the _new world _at all, as none of those weeks in 21st century were – real life: the first two week he was still trying to comprehend what has happened, letting his anger and denial out by boxing and running endless laps and exhausting himself until he couldn't do anything anymore, and then he lay on the bed, listening to the radio and ignoring the pain in his chest that seem to be the constant occurrence now. Then the battle happened, everything was too intense, too raw, to _impossible_ to understand, but he went on because there was no other way. He obeyed orders and issued orders and it all paid off in a bittersweet victory. And the two weeks between the fight and now, Steve's been helping with clean-up most of his days and if he wasn't, he spent hours in debriefs in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ or reading history books.

They are terrifying, the whole world is, and every having known Hydra everything seems so crude and vicious; maybe because before, it was only a group of madmen, and now – it's everyone and everywhere.

Steve says words people don't use and understand anymore and struggles to comprehend what is spoken to him, unless his interlocutors are paying close attention to what they say. He likes clothes people don't wear anymore, so he puts on too tight jeans without creases and t-shirts, at least normal shirts and jackets are still _fashionable_. The books he remembers, and the music and the cinema, it's still somewhere, but only as obscure thing for _geeks_.

Smiles and nods, it's no different from a puppet-on-display the way he was at the beginning, singing and dancing his pathetic way all across the USA, grateful that his face was covered by the mask. He's done his share for now, his share of duties and fighting, and he's of no use now other than for lifting heavy things, and propaganda.

When Director Fury calls all the Avengers for a meeting and tells them they have to do a press conference to raise the morale and help out the government, they all agree, even Bruce, since it's the least they can do after all the destruction they took part in. Sure, they were only the defendants, but they are all humans with conscience that makes them feel somehow guilty, and it seems like a genuinely good idea.

Stark, as a face recognized by the whole country, or rather the whole world – and Steve doesn't really get why they would love him so much, but maybe he really is too old-fashioned for that – and Steve, as Captain America, the hope, the miracle, are chosen to be the speakers, with other Avengers on their sides, presenting themselves to the world. Thor is back from Asgard and even he is going to appear.

Steve isn't happy about that, because Stark is one of the biggest mysteries to him, he doesn't understand the man at all. He knows Stark is a genius and that he is quick-witted and clever, has more knowledge than any of them, maybe save Bruce, and more power and resources. Steve knows he's been mistaken about the man, he's told him he wasn't the one for the sacrifice play when in fact that's exactly what Stark did, riding the nuclear bomb into the portal. He doesn't want to be wrong again, but – they just can't talk without arguing.

Probably because they just really don't understand each other.

Stark is a self-proclaimed _genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist_, and according to what Steve has read about the man, it's all true, even if he's been a little less… wild about dames recently. Steve can't understand how a man who is that intelligent can be so foolish. All the things Stark says, off-handedly, all his exaggerated movements and laughter and bad jokes, all his techno-babble and science-speak he uses all around, completely ignoring everyone who is no familiar with it – it's just annoying and confusing. And not only to Steve.

He watches, reads, listens, learns, but it's all too much for him, and in the end he always finds himself in his S.H.I.E.L.D.-provided apartment alone and so, so lonely.

* * *

So, the date of the conference is set for June 1st, and in the morning Steve wakes up from a nightmare and he can feel already that the day will be absolutely no fun. The press conference – he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to behave… it seems that his outdated behavior sure brings a smile and reassurance to the citizens, but then they will just end up mocking him anyway.

Morning run, shower, breakfast with an actual newspaper Steve insists on buying every day, even though he knows he could watch the TV or read something on the – internet. He feels better with the physical copy though.

The routine is nice and makes Steve feel safer, so he doesn't plan to change it anytime soon.

By eleven, he is in S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. The press conference is set for half past twelve, so Steve is the first one.

He walks through the familiar corridors to a debrief room number eleven that's been unofficially renamed Avengers Room. It's empty, but there is water and some snacks in the cupboard, like always, and a few folders on the table: the information that they are allowed to share. They have all as much as memorized the boundaries.

Steve opens one of them nevertheless and starts skimming the text yet again, trying to stop himself from drumming fingers on the table nervously – and failing miserably. He goes through the description of S.H.I.E.L.D. that is to be given to the general public if asked, a backstory of how the attack has started, some words on Loki and a personal story of each of the Avengers, all the controversial fact wrapped up with a blanket of safe lies, all the secret information marked with red.

Natasha and Clint come in about half an hour later, since they've been staying in HQ quarters it's just a couple of minutes for them to reach the debrief room.

'Good morning,' Steve tells them when they enter the room. Natasha raises and eyebrow and offers a small smile.

'Hey,' Clint greets and drops down onto his chair, taking out one of those awful vivid blue drinks; Steve will probably never understand how people can choose to consume something like that, something so artificially colored that it seems to be actually shining.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Bruce and Thor arrive, both already dressed for the occasion: Bruce is a nice suit Stark must have made him buy, Thor in his Asgardian garments, making it obvious who he is.

Steve's uniform is still in the other room, but he only needs a few minutes to get ready. He told Director Fury that he'd prefer to be wearing normal clothes, but since no one would recognize him it wouldn't make the audience as… favorable as expected.

Thor seems completely enthralled with a book he has brought with himself and the three others start talking, so Steve decides to go an put on the suit in the meantime.

When he comes back it's noon and they should be leaving soon to be in the audition hall early enough to avoid any potential problems, but –

'Where is Stark?' Steve asks with a frown, scanning the room. Everyone looks around and shrugs, as if they haven't really noticed the man's absence.

'He hasn't appeared here yet, Captain,' Thor informs Steve, closing the book and leaving it on the table. 'Are we supposed to start moving?'

'Yeah, we should,' Steve replies with a frown and just that moment his telephone starts to ring – well, ring isn't the best word, there is a nice soft melody that Bruce helped him to set, it's quiet enough for most people to simply miss it, but Steve's super-hearing doesn't miss anything. The screen says _STARK_. Steve picks up.

'Hey, Cap, I'm just calling to tell you I can't make it today, I'm sorry and all that, have a nice time yourself. Say hello to others from me,' Stark says quickly, words almost tangling like always, and disconnects.

Steve can feel panic mixed with anger raising in his chest as he exhales slowly, trying not to get mad and pull himself together.

'Hey, cap, what's happened?' Clint asks, standing up and walking towards Steve.

'Stark's just called me and said he _won't make it_,' Steve replies, his voice angry and a tad resigned. Clint scoffs lightly. 'Told to say _hello_ to you, too,' he adds. 'What are we going to _do _now?'

'Well, we can't exactly go and drag him here 'cause we don't even know where he is,' Bruce states, massaging his temples as if he had a headache. 'Even if sometimes I wish we could do that. And we can't call the conference off – twenty five minutes before it's supposed to start,' he finishes after glancing at his watch.

'This is a sign of a great irresponsibility from out friend's side,' Thor comments, sounding solemn, but then, he almost always sounds like that.

'I don't understand that man… How could he be that unreliable? This – this really is something we're doing for S.H.I.E.L.D. and for the government and for ourselves, and it's important to let the citizens know that they are safe now and why it all happened. We owe them that much after all the death and destruction and he, he just _calls_ and says he is sorry and he really isn't, and –'

'Someone's got to teach the man responsibility. Even if he says he's not a team player,' Clint finished for Steve, nodding.

Steve sighs, shaking his head; he desperately wishes he could have his shield in hands, with him all the time, it makes him feel more assured – more like Captain America who knows exactly what he's doing than Steve Rogers who doesn't have an idea how the world works anymore.

'I'll help you,' Natasha speaks up from her place and all heads turn to look at her. 'I'm trained in sweet-talking, and that's what Stark was supposed to do. I can charm the public if I want. You won't have to do this by yourself, Steve.'

'Tony really shouldn't –' Bruce starts, but Natasha doesn't let him finish.

'I know he shouldn't, but he isn't just going to magically appear here. And we have to do the conference. You can think about Stark later. Is that acceptable, Captain?'

'Yes, of course,' Steve agrees weakly, but he swears to himself that he _will_ ask Stark what was he thinking. And the man will have to deal with very mad Director Fury later, anyway.

Finally, all dressed in their gear, they leave the room and get to where the press conference takes place. Steve informs Director that Stark won't be there; Fury tells him that he's got a text message saying the same. He looks calmer than Steve has expected, but that's probably because he's too dignified to actually act mad in front of all those people. The man doesn't forget anything, though, Steve has learned so much.

The room is already full when they arrive at the back of the scene – why is there even a scene? – and get looked at by some agents who then give them green light and they all enter the podium and sit down.

Stark was supposed to steal the spotlight and as much as Natasha does a good job, she is not him, she is nowhere near an eccentric billionaire that makes hundreds of thousands of women swoon by some almost magical force. The attention therefore is focused on Steve too much for his liking; and he, in his colorful outfit feels out of place, terribly unfitting. Sure, he answers questions and smiles politely, trying to act in the best Captain America manner, but it feels like a rather poor attempt even to himself. He has seen Stark's interviews and for the first time he really wishes the man was there; he was a natural, he could turn all the questions around, make people satisfied without giving an answer, make them laugh or get angry seemingly at his will.

It's an hour before the journalists are thanked and basically forced out of the room; they seem able to ask endless questions, getting less and less focused on the important things and more on personal details that no one would even dare to ask about in Steve's times.

When he is _finally_ back in his apartment, he notices that there is a message on his phone that says _'saw u on the web, good job capsicle :))))'_ and Steve tries really hard not to let himself be angry his teammate, not to resignedly despise the 21st century.

Instead, he calls Stark, but nobody picks up the phone. He tries again and again, but after four times he decides to leave it for tomorrow.

Stark calls back a few hours later, and Steve must admit that he's rather expected the man to ignore the calls altogether.

'Stark?'

'_Well, I guess if that's what your phone tells you, and I know that it does because I gave it to you myself, I can understand why you'd think it could be me-_'

'Stark,' Steve repeats, this time forcefully and not questioningly. The man's voice, even if changes a bit by the transmission, is obvious enough, and no one could mistake the verbosity.

'_Yes, Capsicle_?'

'I hope you know that the stunt you pulled today – it's inacceptable,' Steve tells Stark in his best authoritative voice, the same voice he used to use around annoying army officers who opposed to his plans and ideas, before they learned that he was the man for the job. 'You are part of the team and part of something bigger, and you can't just behave as irresponsibly as you did today. We had difficult time on the conference today, and explaining you absence only added problems to the whole situation. We owe the city and the country something –'

Stark sighs loudly, making Steve shiver at the strange-sounding noise in his ear.

'_I never asked to be a part of something bigger,_' Stark cuts in quickly. '_I've always wanted to be a solo player. If Fury or whoever is disillusioned enough to believe that I'm suddenly going to behave like a team player now, well. I can't ban stupidity._'

Steve cringes at the words he's read in Tony's file; it was written all over the man's story that he is indeed a self-sufficient self-centered person who doesn't play well with others. Stark said that himself a few good times.

But the responsibility isn't something you can just renounce, Steve knows that himself too well.

'So, you at least have a reason for not coming? Or were you just too – I don't know, you just didn't feel like coming a few blocks down?'

There is a moment of silence on the line before Stark speaks up.

'_If I wanted to tell you the reason, I'd have to trust you.'_

Steve shakes his head in disbelief, because he can understand a lot, but it really is the other way round, right? It's Stark who's just proved to be untrustworthy, not that Steve would ever want to confide in Stark – and that's what he says.

'_No, Captain,_' Stark replies, sounding uncharacteristically serious. '_This time you're wrong. I would have to trust you. I would have to know you can act responsibly and not like Fury's dog. I would have to be sure that you would act the way I would ask you to, and I am sorry, but I can't do this right now._'

He actually said he was sorry? Now, that is something new, Steve has to admit; even when he wanted to apologize for what he said on the Helicarrier, Stark just waved him off and declared it doesn't matter to him at all, and he certainly didn't offer as much as _sorry._

'Okay, Stark, let's say we –'

'_There is no 'we' here, Rogers. Don't try pull off the Captain stunt here, because I don't care and you know I don't care. I – I don't really have time for this. Think about it. If I think I can trust you, you will know. If you act grown up and let me decide because it's me we are talking about and no matter what you have learned about me so far, I value my private life a lot. Well, that, and – wow, it's half past nine already? – have nice patriotic dreams. Or something,'_ Stark finishes and disconnects, leaving Steve mostly speechless. This is just – too strange.

Steve ends up spending the night in gym, getting acquainted with new punching bags for a very long time for a first date and when his hands, despite the serum, look bruised and hurt, he simply switches to running away from this thoughts.

It doesn't really work, and by the time he is back in the apartment his hands are perfectly intact. He fixes himself a big breakfast, eats it an falls asleep on the sofa.

The next time he sees Stark, neither he nor the man mention the conversation. Steve doesn't claim to get what it's all about, but this time he's really determined to try to understand the man.

* * *

**15.07.2012**

Stark calls in the afternoon, just a few minutes after Steve is back from his run and out of the shower, still dripping water all over the floor.

'_Captain_,' the man greets him cheerfully.

'Stark,' Steve replies flatly, taking out the bread from package with one hand.

'_Why so serious, Captain – wait, no, you won't get the reference, it's not from –_' Steve rolls his eyes at Stark's rant; he's gotten rather used to them within the last few weeks, and it turns out as long as you don't try to pay attention to what exactly he is saying, you will be fine. Steve started doing that when Bruce told him that even he doesn't understand half of what Stark says when he's babbling. Possibly Miss Potts gets him, but she must be the only one.

'Are you calling for a reason, or just to interrupt my meal?'

'_Meal? At three p.m.? Are you sure you're not European or something? Don't you wake up at sunrise with America's motto on your lips_?'

'I don't really think that eating food at 3 p.m. qualifies –' Steve starts, but he knows that there is ninety percent probability, at least, that Stark doesn't listen.

'_Yeah, sure, whatever works for you – how is your self-update going? Did you get to synthpop yet?'_

'I don't know what you're talking about, Stark,' Steve admits, frowning. That doesn't even sound like a proper word, it wouldn't be so surprising if Stark just made it up.

'_No, really, you probably shouldn't even try – how do you feel about some cake?_' Stark changes the subject, confusing Steve even further. Cake? Why suddenly cake? '_No, honestly,'_ Stark continues, his voice more serious now, '_I've had a month and a half to see how virtuous your spangled self is and your goodness makes my teeth rot, I swear, but – I think we should talk._'

Oh. So it's about – that.

'It only took you six weeks to decide you could trust me?'

'_I usually decide on a whim,_' Stark replies, sounding honest. _'And you took me that long, but I needed to see some proofs before I could decide, you know…'_

And Steve suddenly gets it, why the man called just now and not before – Steve has basically, well, shouted at Fury for talking to WSC and general Ross behind their backs, and even if those were not harmful plans about Hulk, Steve _hated_ the team not being included in the discussion that concerned all of them. Everyone was mad, but it was Steve to speak up and say that if S.H.I.E.L.D. was going to continue like that, they would be no better than anyone else and that he doesn't want to deal with that.

Stark, come to think of it, looked perfectly balanced between angry, pensive and impressed.

'Sure. Yeah – where to?'

'_Are seriously asking me where to? I think you did mention a big ugly tower before? Use the main entrance, go to the second corridor on your right and you'll know what to do. Have time now?_'

'Yes, I have – I'll be there in half an hour,' Steve replies before hanging up. He east his second lunch and puts on some nice clothes, which is probably as good change from his casual-and-comfy but not very handsome home outfit.

Steve arrives at the tower a few minutes early and goes where he was told; no one stops him from entering the corridor. When he takes the turn, he immediately spots Tony sitting on the windowsill at the very end, typing quickly on his – _tablet,_ Steve thinks it's called. But it could be something else he doesn't know how to call.

Before he manages to take five steps ahead, Stark's head shoots up and he waves at Steve, getting up in one graceful movement, the device secure in his hand.

'Hey, Cap, you early – wow, did you dress up just for me? Want to yourself with me for more cake? Don't worry, there is plenty,' Stark says with a smile, moving fluidly to one of the elevators on left.

'Thank you for letting me come, Stark,' Steve says as soon as he steps in behind the smaller man.

'Hmm? Haven't I told you to call me Tony yet? I mean, you make me feel older than I am, and this is painful to even say, and you must feel awkward because of my dad –'

'I used to call him his name, but thanks. Steve,' he adds, stretching out his hand as the elevator shot up. Stark looks at it for a few seconds as if he didn't know what to do, but then shakes it with more strength than Steve would have expected.

'That's a beautiful rendezvous, _Steve_,' Sta– _Tony _says when they step out into a big apartment with an open plan and a view of the tops of skyscrapers, much sooner than Steve can understand, given that he didn't feel the elevator's speed at all. But it only makes sense, in Stark's house.

The interior is modern and pretty, Steve can't refuse to admit that; he likes it much more than the outside. There are soft tones, defined shapes, lots of dark teak-colored furniture, everything looking elegant and luxurious and comfortable, exactly as Steve has expected.

Only that in the middle of the big space, between a corner with sofas, the kitchen area and the windowed wall, there is a mountain of those little brick toys that Steve has learnt from Clint are all kids' favorite. (It was nice but a bit embarrassing to see your own face on tiny plastic toys.)

Steve can't help but frown at the sight, but he figures Tony _really_ is eccentric, so who knows what he might be doing here… Steve knows as much as that it's possible to build toy robots, so maybe that's it. Tony doesn't spare the mess even one look, leading Steve straight to the kitchen space and pointing him a seat by the kitchen island. Granite countertops, obviously.

'Cake?' Tony asks, but doesn't wait for an answer before shoving a huge piece on a plate and putting it in front of Steve. Steve isn't sure if he is really wants to try it, because Stark always eats strange things and the donuts he often insists on sharing are nauseatingly sweet, but he is too well-mannered to refuse when the host offers. Tony cuts a slice for himself, too, and sits cross-legged on the high chair on Steve's right.

'Aren't you going to fall off?' Steve asks, frowning, because it certainly doesn't look safe. Tony gives him a quick smile.

'No, years of practice,' Tony mutters, putting a forkful of cake into his mouth, and Steve does the same. It's surprisingly good, doesn't taste very sweet, it's chocolaty and crunchy, fluffy and moist in the right proportions, and tastes – _real_. Unlike most things that Steve has had a questionable pleasure of tasting.

'It's very good,' Steve tells Tony, offering a timid smile.

'Can teach you,' Tony replies, words muffled, with his mouth still full.

'_You_ made the cake?'

'Don't _you_ cook for yourself?' Tony asks back, raising an eyebrow and setting his fork down. Steve nods. 'So. I don't have a chief hiding in a cupboard. Too much bothering. But – it's not what I wanted to talk with you about, at least not this time. I… About that time I didn't come to the press conference.' Tony states, sighing, and now he looks as serious as he sounded on the phone. It's a subtle change, but Steve notices nonetheless.

'What about it?' Steve asks, because trying to tell Tony that it doesn't matter now, after a month and a half, would be a lie and they both know it. It's still – fundamental.

'… it's bound to happen again.'

'What do you mean?'

'I have to be honest with you, at this point, when you are becoming attached and protective of the team, when we're starting to come together somehow, despite how different we are – that could happen anytime. Me not being able to come – and it's okay if you kick me out of the team. I wasn't supposed to be there is the first place anyway… But. Imagine, because it could happen: we are being called to an emergency, Avengers assemble and get rid of the bad guy or something, andI wouldn't be able to come. You wouldn't want someone like that on your team and – I completely understand.'

'Okay, Tony,' Steve says, trying to read between lines of Tony's speech, but he can't really manage. 'But I don't understand, I mean, you've been doing fine, save that… one time. And now you don't want to be on the team?'

'No, I don't mind being on the team, only _you_ shouldn't want me on the team and like I told you, I understand that and it's okay –'

'Why?' Steve can't help but ask because it doesn't make sense, Tony's been acting as if he liked being and Avenger, getting familiar with the team, working together, even acting a bit more – grown-up, and that's a lot coming from Steve.

'I've got other obligations – that's lame, there are things more important than killing some aliens – too banal, you won't understand – too teenage angst…' Tony recites, as if to himself, staring at the ceiling. 'I guess we're not gonna be good without good ol' truth,' he adds, jerking his head abruptly and looking at Steve. 'I've got a son, Steve,' Tony states, his voice calm and _warm._

Wait, _a son_? –

The disbelief must be written all over his face, because Tony grins and nods.

'Yes, a son.'

'How does no one –'

'Oh, come on, I can keep a secret, do you all think so little of me?' Tony teases, but his eyes are solemn. 'Pepper knows, and Rhodey and – Natasha and _yes_, that's why she wasn't so bitchy about me not showing up. She figured the reason,' he adds, before the room falls silent for a few long moments. Steve looks away, but he can feel Tony's haze.

'A son,' Steve acknowledges finally.

'Before you ask, I can tell you that his name is Evelyn and he's just had his eleventh birthday yesterday and you're currently eating the birthday cake.'

Steve can't help but glance at the elegant brown piece on his plate, mutilated by his fork-jabbing. A birthday cake. For – for Stark's son. And he though the world wouldn't surprise him so much anymore, especially not after losing ten bucks to Fury about the Helicarrier.

'He is out with Rhodey now, birthday treat, the kid adores his _uncle _like no one else. Well, besides me,' Tony tells Steve with a smirk. 'They will be back in…one hour, thirty minutes. Give or take five.'

'The toys – the brick ones –'

'The Legos on over there?' Tony asks, waving his hand at the general direction on Steve's eight o'clock. 'Yes, birthday presents. They are great to teach creative thinking – he is a big fan, didn't ask for anything but Legos. And if you are wondering if he builds robots, the answer is yes,' Tony pauses for a moment, running a hand through his hair and then sighing softly.

'So, you would always choose your son before the Avengers,' Steve concludes, and it makes sense, somehow, even if it sounds a bit… over-attached. He has never expected Stark to be the one like that, given what the world thinks about the man. But there is no nod of confirmation of the statement. 'Tony?'

'No,' Tony replies quietly, making Steve look at him sharply. 'No, I don't think I would. _Normally_. If I'm not there to defend this damn place, we might all end up pretty fucked, and we both knows this, we _all_ know this. And Evelyn has his friend – well, you'd probably call Flavie a nanny – who is with him whenever he needs someone and I can't be there. It's just that, sometimes –' Tony takes a breath and exhale quickly, making a dubious face. 'Steve. How am I supposed to explain it to you when you have zero knowledge of these things?' he asks, shaking his head.

_These things?_ Now, Steve is kind of confused, maybe not much more than usually when he goes out and encounters yet another completely new and illogical thing that everyone takes for granted and fails to explain it to him. He – he just hates feeling outdated and uninformed. Tony must have noticed the resigned look on his face, because he smiles and continues.

'Don't worry, you're in the same situation as about half population of the globe, at least? I guess?... Evelyn, he has autism – I can see from your face it doesn't mean anything to you right now – mind if I just recite you one of the definitions?'

Steve shakes his head for no, it's confusing, not knowing to expect. The word could mean anything, could mean something – _fatal –_

'Well, it goes like this: _a developmental disorder recognized and diagnosed by impairment of the ability to form normal social relationships, the ability to communicate with others, and by stereotyped behavior patterns especially as exhibited by a preoccupation with repetitive activities of restricted focus_.'

Steve listens intently to those words, feeling relieves that it's not anything terminal, how could he know? But even though he understands the sentences, he doesn't know what they translate into in reality. Tony seems to have anticipated that, though.

'Because I think you'd like to meet Evelyn, I could just give you overview what to expect, okay? You can get some reading material later or anything if you would be interested, I don't know about that…'

'I'd like to, yes,' Steve agrees; it only makes sense to try to – help. All the anger that he's felt has dissipated by now.

'Evelyn – is eleven now, so we've got some of the more difficult years behind, he's been slowly getting better at some things but – don't be surprised if he doesn't talk to you, or doesn't talk at all. And if he does, he'll never look you in the eye. Even if he doesn't appear to be listening, he probably is, until he's really focused on something. Don't disturb him or the work or he will be mad. Well, and if he isn't focused on something, he'll probably run around and disappear randomly,' Tony recites without a pause. 'And – don't touch him. At all. No handshakes, nothing like that. It's okay if he initiates the contact first, but he won't, at least not until you get to know each other better… if you decide to stick around…'

'Why wouldn't I?' Steve asks automatically, frowning; sure, all those behaviors Tony's just described seem like they might be a problem, but it's just – some issues. It's nothing terrible.

'Lots of people get – scared, I guess. Seem prejudiced. Think the kids are dumb,' Tony explains with a sigh. 'Sure, it's – difficult. So often. But it's… it's incredible. It's even more rewarding than bringing up a _healthy_ child.'

Steve nods in agreement. It's something his mother kept telling him, whenever he was sick _again_ and unable to do anything _again _and she had to spend all money on his medicine _again, _ he always said he was sorry that he is like that, and she would hug him and tell him he's being stupid and that seeing him get up from the bed on wobbly legs, determined to get better, every single time was more gratifying than seeing a vigorous kid run around happily.

'And that time, with the press conference,' Tony speaks up again, even though Steve doesn't need an clarification right now, but Tony seems like he wants – needs maybe – to offer a proper explanation. 'Evelyn usually does okay by himself and with Flavie, or Pepper or Rhodey, people he is used to, familiar with. Just sometimes… Ah. It's called a meltdown. It's a… terrible experience to both the child and the parent – it's like the kid loses control over themselves, over the emotions, just – _everything_. It sometimes happen for no obvious reason and as much as Evelyn's teachers and Flavie can calm him down normally, at those times he responds to me only. He needs help to return him to control 'cause he can't do that himself and it can be violent and terrifying and – yeah. If it's the case then yes, I would consider my child a priority before everything else. _Everything._'

When he finishes speaking, Steve realizes that he's been staring at Tony, who has his eyes fixed on his hands in front of him, at the same time enchanted and downcast by the man's grave words. There was a fierce strength buried underneath all the sadness, though, and it's only something that Steve has expected from and known about Iron Man.

'And I don't want you to feel guilty for a second for being angry at me for not showing up,' Tony adds quickly, almost making it sound like a… _rap_, and offer Steve a grin, glancing at his plate. 'Now, eat the cake before it grows mold.'

Steve wants to protest, because it was him that was wrong, but one long stare silences him and he eats, and when he's finished the piece Tony slices him another one without asking, Steve would have said no, but if he is not given a choice he's happy to eat – Tony must have figured that out already.

'Why won't you tell the team about Evelyn? You know you can trust them, you know already that we'll do everything to help you –'

'Oh, yes, you reminded me – if you tell Fury any of this, I'll have your head. Maybe literally,' Tony jokes, but Steve knows that he's being serious behind the funny farce. 'No, I don't trust S.H.I.E.L.D. Especially not after the stunt they pulled with Ross. And as for the team – I don't know them enough to let them in my _family_. Bruce is not even in the USA now, Clint is grieving and I know this is going to sound cruel, but he _has been_ mind-controlled and I just… You know. And Thor, he is _too much_, and he doesn't understand the world the way we do, and even if I ask him to keep it secret, he may just understand it differently. I like the big guy, but with Evelyn – I'm just doing everything at 200%. I need to keep him safe. And –everything in right time.'

'Okay, I get it,' Steve assures Tony. All that the man says makes perfect sense, and as much as Steve would like to say good things only about his teammates, they are only human (or close, in Thor's case) and make mistakes.

He is not going to rush Tony.

'Are you going to help me with dinner? Rhodey and Evelyn will be here in an hour. I'm making chicken breast roulades with spinach filling. And the soup is on the stove.'

'So, you cook – for Evelyn?' Steve asks for clarification, getting up and taking the two plates and forks and moving to put them into the dishwasher.

'Me or Flavie. We know best what he likes – another thing. He's picky with food. Like, won't eat anything blue, pity, 'cause I love blueberries. Nothing mashed. Likes crunchy foods and green foods, cue the spinach… And tomato soup. We have that six days a week, really. Favorite food ever,' Tony explains as he starts to take things out of the fridge, Steve can't help but notice the man's practiced movements with awe, but then the rolls up his sleeves and is ready to help.

Steve doesn't think he should be surprised that Tony knows the time of Rhodey and Evelyn's arrival almost perfectly; he's less one minute off. _Routine_, Tony said. It seems to be one of the most important factors. Steve makes sure to remember everything he is told.

Just before the adventurous duo steps into the apartment, Steve feels him heartbeat fasten with anticipation and he has to admit that he is – anxious, too. He just doesn't want to do something wrong.

'Dad!' a child's voice comes from the other side of the vast room, and when Steve and Tony turn away from the stove, the boy is already half across the room and then he – he doesn't run up to his father or to anyone, just climbs onto a stool and straightens his back. It is a bit surprising, but Steve keeps the thought to himself.

The boy is small and thin, with messy black hair and Tony's face features, wearing jeans and a hoodie.

'You are five minutes early, Evelyn,' Tony replies in a pleasant voice. The boy stares at his hands, not unlike Tony before, and doesn't reply. 'How was the trip?' Tony asks, looking at Rhodey – colonel Rhodes, that is, they have met once – who approaches them with a surprised face. 'I invited Steve to meet Evelyn and eat dinner with us,' Tony explains as if it was obvious. 'Set the table, sit down. The food will be ready in three minutes.'

They do as they are told, Steve in placed on the opposite side of the counter as Evelyn, next to Rhodes, who shakes his hands and asks Steve to call him James or Rhodey, _like everyone_. Two names – three, if Evelyn counts? – in one day, that's a record, Steve decides.

The dinner is a quiet affair, not much talking besides Rhodey briefly describing the trip to the zoo. Steve is happy with the tranquility because he can focus more attention on the interaction between Tony and his son that seems to be absolutely instinctive and fascinating. Tony doesn't really touch the boy, but manages to make his way around physical contact. If he speaks up, there is no usual sarcasm or irony, there are no metaphors and not comparisons; Steve hasn't known the man for so long, but he's always been a ball of energy, talking all this nonsense, and he can guess how difficult it must have been – maybe still is – for Tony to suddenly change his attitude and habits so much around the kid.

He must really love Evelyn, Steve suddenly realizes, even if it was obvious for the first sentence _I have a son_, the way it was spoken.

But he doesn't comment.

Evelyn doesn't speak at all during the dinner and doesn't seem to notice Steve's stares, seemingly totally focused on his food, the meat cut in exactly twenty seven pieces; Steve has counted.

'Do you want to play with Legos now?' Tony asks when they have finished; Evelyn nods, staring in the direction of the room, then jumps off the stool and a second alter he's kneeling on the floor, next to the toys. 'Can Steve play with us?' Tony asks loudly across the room as he's cleaning the table with Steve's help. Rhodes has moved to the sofa with his telephone.

The boy makes a quick movement with his left hand and Tony moves, beckoning to Steve. who follows. He's never played with kids, really, never seen those toys from up close and he doesn't really know what to do but – he sits down on the floor, observes the two Starks' movements and copies them, quickly getting what the whole fun is about.

It's two hours before they end the play-time. Steve is absolutely fascinated with the toys; he's created several pieces, cars and houses, an airplane even, putting the bricks together and tearing them apart and never stopping to look at Tony – who, unsurprisingly, makes an almost perfect replica of Stark Tower and then a set of robots who actually move their arms and legs. Evelyn works all the time on one giant thing that looks like spaceship; he takes minutes sometimes to find the right piece though and therefore builds slower, but the composition is perfectly meticulous and Steve is sure when it will be finished it will be astounding.

At some point Tony glances at his watch, stands up and tells Evelyn that it's time for bed. The boy stands up, too, without any protest, turns around and runs to the open elevator; Steve knows now that he has a suite one floor down and his friend–_nanny_ is waiting there for him.

'Wow, that's a good day, going out, playing with a basically-stranger, no protests, that is something,' Tony comments happily, walking over to the kitchen and leaving the whole mess of half-built constructions on the floor, as if it belonged there.

Steve looks around, noticing that Rhodey has disappeared somewhere in the meantime, then follows Tony. There is a glass of juice waiting for him on the counter already.

'I think I've just seen a proof that you are more responsible than probably any of us. You can be sure I won't let Fury kick you off the team no matter what.'

'Thanks,' Tony says weakly not looking up.

'You know what, Tony?' Steve continues, but he is not going to talk about Evelyn because Tony's been observing him, too, and must have noticed how Steve was taken with the boy straight away, even if the only proof of that must have been his fond face and shining eyes.

'Hmm?'

'When I first met you, I didn't like because I was sure you were the epitome of these times and believe me, it's not a compliment at all,' Steve tells the man honestly. 'But you're the only 21st century thing that has managed to completely surprise me – in a positive way.'

'I live to serve,' Tony replies gleefully, smirking, and Steve knows it's an invite.

* * *

**A/N:**Two things this time: 1) this chapter was supposed to be half this length, so forgive, and 2) I changed the description a bit and everyone who was confused with the 3-4-1 layout I mentioned, I spent the weekend thinking and decided to continue this story in a bit different way than planned. So, we'll just have the encounters, one by one, and the whole team at the end :)

Thank you so much for all reviews :) I live off them, so please please tell me what you think!


	5. Thor

**11.08.2012 / Thor**

Midgard often leaves Thor confused. Of course everyone is welcoming and nice and they try to help him with understanding, especially Jane and Darcy – it took Thor a few weeks to starts calling people by their names, without being overly polite or formal – and Erik, whenever they meet.

He has heard people saying that he and Captain should understand each other well, but they don't, not really. Steve understands how things work – technology, for example, he picks up the things quickly, and the language – but he doesn't understand _people_. Thor is the opposite. He understands people, but doesn't know how to operate the all the devices that people insist on having around themselves.

Thor understands the men's nature, the desires, the sentiments, the strengths and weaknesses and the motivations. No one expects him to be the one who observes, but he is. That's only better because they don't realize that someone is attempting to _read them._

So Anthony – Tony, Thor always has trouble calling the man his shortened name, it just seems so fragile, unfitting – is hiding something and Thor knows that almost from the very beginning of their acquaintance. He doesn't ask, though, because it's not his thing to inquire if the man doesn't offer an answer, and he is graced with the same thoughtfulness.

But when Tony picks up his phone during one of the sparring sessions that start to be a common activity for the whole team, bringing them together and helping to build trust and the spirit of camaraderie, and steps away from where he was sparring with Clint, Thor hears him saying something that intrigues him very much.

The man is speaking quickly and quietly – Thor's senses are better than Midgardians', so it's easy to pick up the conversation – and most of what he says Thor _doesn't understand_. It is – very surprising. Thor has been to many places in Midgard and beyond, so far and Allspeak provided him with understanding of all the languages, and suddenly being faced with a tongue that he doesn't understand is something he has never expected to happen.

Tony finishes the talk and returns to his training, but he isn't focused and Clint lands a few painfully-looking blows on him. Tony apologizes and removes himself from the gym without more words of explanation.

Thor observes the man even more closely from then and notices that Tony does that often: talks on the phone – and disappears.

Sometimes he looks as if he was hurting, but hides it almost perfectly. Thor notices only because he has done the same as a young boy, feeling too proud to admit being unwell.

Thor doesn't think that the man wants their teammates to know his secrets, so he decides to confront him personal, in a calm place.

'Can we speak somewhere where we won't be disturbed?' Thor asks Tony after a debrief with Director and a handful of agents about a future mission. Tony frowns, but it's only a moment of confusion – they are not the closest comrades, Thor admits to himself – and he smiles in his usual fashion.

'Sure thing, big guy. When?'

'I am available at any time this week. Jane is in a research facility in Arizona for a few day,' Thor offers, speaking truthfully, leaving the decision to Tony.

'Oh, you must feel lonely, big fella – how about you come by for a dinner? We'll have a few beers, lots of greasy food, we can share stories…'

Thor smiles, taken with his teammate's openness and enthusiasm, but the hospitality seems… undeserved. Even though Thor has learned that in Midgard, the circle of favors and returns of the favors is not as tight as in Asgard.

'Thank you, friend, but I am merely wishing to ask you a few questions and it such a feast is not necessary,' he explains.

'Okay then, how about we just grab a coffee and talk? I hear you like it?'

'I am partial to the beverage, yes,' Thor replies, beaming. 'This is an excellent idea –'

'Let's go now. We are done here and I don't want to stay in these cramped rooms more than I have to… I know a nice calm place around. With the best coffee – of course with the best coffee, I don't drink anything else than the best,' Tony manages to say without drawing a breath, something that Thor still deems impressive, even now that he is more familiar with the man's mannerism.

* * *

Half an hour later they are seated in the small café, a pleasant place, Thor has to admit: simple but with a _homey_ feeling, as Darcy would put it, and the owner seems to have known Tony for a long time, he doesn't even have to tell his order. Thor is not sure what to choose, since his knowledge of the beverages is still limited and it is Darcy to guess what he would like.

'And for you…' the lady says pensively, eying Thor critically, 'I'll give you a double shot latter with whipped crème and chocolate syrup, you seem like the one to enjoy it.'

Thor inclines his head in agreement, trusting the lady, and a few minutes later he is gifted with one of the best coffees he has tried so far; he decides to tell Darcy to ask Tony about this place so that she could enjoy it, too, with her admiration for coffee.

'So, what's the thing you wanted to talk about?' Tony asks him after taking a few sips of his drink, with a rather blissful look on his face.

'I have encountered a mystery I could not solve, and I didn't want to ask anyone for help as it seemed to me to be a personal matter…'

'What do you mean?' Tony asks around his cup with a frown.

'What is the mysterious language you seem to speak sometimes? I have been gifted with Allspeak, but even its power doesn't give me any answers in this regards…'

Tony _stares_ at him intently, making Thor blink in confusion, has he done something wrong?

'How do you know _that_?'

'How – what do you mean, Tony? I only heard you speak, friend, and I was curious. I didn't realize there was something wrong with that. I am sorry if I have offended you –'

'No, no, no worries, big guy,' Tony replies with a sigh. 'I never expected all this mess, with you guys around…' he adds in a murmur and then drinks half of his coffee in one go. 'It's not a language at all. It's just like a code? You know, like we have military code and mafia has code and all that? Young people make up words and use them to communicate between themselves without others knowing?' Thor nods in acknowledgment, thinking about the _code_-words that the Warrior Three uses during battles not to disclose their intentions to the opponent. 'But I thought I haven't been _that_ obvious –'

'You, Midgardians, seem to forget that that I have senses superior to yours,' Thor replies with a smile. It can be quite amusing sometimes, seeing the people's surprise. Tony looks up at him and blinks a few times, as if he's seen Thor for the first time.

'You do?' he asks, cocking his head in his usual manner. Thor nods again.

'We have superior strength and abilities, you know that much – but you always seem to forget that it is for a reason and that it bears implications, friend,' Thor explains, wrapping his hands around the pleasantly warm cup.

'… yeah, I guess it makes sense,' Tony agrees, inclining his head. 'So, that's all you wanted to know?'

'It is. Although I have to admit I am curious as to what do you need the code for, since it seems strenuous. You often look tired and hurt the next day,' Thor explains, noticing Tony's blank stare just when he finishes. 'Am I saying something wrong? I don't want to upset you, friend –'

'No, no,' Tony assures him, messing his hair with one hand, the other occupied with one of those tiny sugar bags he's turning between his fingers with skill and ease. 'You just didn't strike me as someone who takes a lot of care to detail…'

'A lot of people say that,' Thor says friendly, smiling at Tony. 'I prefer it that way.'

'I can understand why you would,' Tony agrees, finishing his drink. He waves a hand and the lady shouts _okay_ across the room; Thor understands it is like calling a servant on a feast, asking them for another helping. 'You didn't strike me as someone who could be quiet and thoughtful and… reserved, even,' Tony adds with his typical honesty. It's a rare trait that Thor appreciates very much.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes; the lady does in fact bring both him and Tony another beverage each, but those are different. Tony's smells like honey, and Thor's own tastes like one of the spices Darcy uses for apple pie, it seems lighter and less creamy than the previous one, but just as delicious.

It's Tony to initiate the conversation anew and Thor is somehow surprised that it takes him that long, since the man is usually very open and talkative and doesn't like waiting. It seems to be a day of surprises for both of them, though.

'Can I ask you something about Asgard, Thor?' Tony says, playing with his empty glass that he didn't let the lady take away, twirling it around and making it dance in his hands.

'Of course, my friend.'

'Are some of the kids in Asgard born… different?' Tony says, his voice quiet, troubled. He tries to sound indifferent, but Thor has spent enough of his time with Loki to see through deception. He is not sure what the man is talking about exactly, so he waits for an elaboration, knowing that one will come from Tony, it always does. He is not disappointed. 'I mean, are they all perfect-built, smart, blue-eyed god offspring, running around happily?'

Thor can't help but think of Loki who's always been a quiet one, spending his time in libraries instead of outside, with others, but there are many Asgardians – of Asgardian blood, for the matter – who were the same. It's not what Tony means, though, at last Thor doesn't feel like it is.

'Some of our children are born without the gift to hear, or to speak, or to see. It doesn't make them any lesser. If that is what you were asking about,' Thor offers, still not sure why Tony would ask the question without any reason.

'Yeah, big guy, that's more or less what I'm asking about,' Tony replies.

'But it isn't really,' Thor states, making Tony look up sharply.

'No, it isn't,' the man admits after holding Thor's gaze for a moment. 'I know I asked already, but are you always like this and I missed a memo, or this s a special situation? I mean –'

'I know what you mean, friend,' Thor laughs, finishing his drink. 'Don't be worried. I have been trained to be a king since I was a kid, and despite how eager and loud I might be, I do actually care more about people and details than you might have thought. I know politics, Asgardian geography, history, I know the tales of my land, most of them by heart, I can play and sing to those noble words, I hunt and ride my horse with eagerness and do much more… Just here, in Midgard, it's impossible or useless to even talk about those matters.'

'I would gladly listen to you singing,' Tony states, cocking his head and smirking. 'I bet you've got a great bass there.'

'I do not know what _bass_ you speak of,' Thor admits, frowning a bit, but he's gotten used to not understanding words. 'But I am willing to take your word for it.'

'Might be the only one,' Tony murmurs, still playing with the sugar bag absentmindedly.

'You can tell me what troubles you.'

'What, as another makeshift psychologist, I've had a run with that – okay. You're not understanding what I'm saying. Never mind, it really doesn't matter, I… I'm just not a talker.'

'Indeed, friend,' Tony agrees, inclining his head. 'You speak a lot, but your words confuse people and build walls around you, between you and the others, but you never speak about things that are significant to you. I understand that – you know I am not such a person, Tony. I speak my heart, because that is what I have been taught and it is what I consider the best way to understand each other. But it makes you no less of a man if you prefer to keep your thoughts to yourself.'

'Glad to hear that.'

'You have a secret you're keeping from everyone,' Thor decides to add; he is not sure if his teammate will want to speak of those matters and if he doesn't, it is acceptable. But Thor knows that sometimes a man needs a push to open up, and Thor is willing to take the chance. He doesn't plan to insist.

'Yeah,' Tony admits and it is something. 'Not for long, probably.'

'What do you mean?'

'I… I never expected you all people to stick around. Well, we are not terribly close or anything, but apparently it's close enough for you to notice things, and that means… I've been fine on my own now. And now it's you all around, and it's explanations and…'

'You do not have to tell me more than you want, Tony,' Thor voices his previous thoughts. 'I don't require any kind of an answer from you.'

'You are a smart guy,' Tony says in response, not really looking at Thor.

'Thank you for saying so.'

'Sure – and you are… from out there. Out of this planet. You notice things other don't because they consider them casual and overlook them.'

'Aye.'

'So that's how you knew I have a – _secret_.'

'The strange tongue-code you speak was my first clue, but yes.'

Tony offers a smile and Thor waits for another questions, but it doesn't come for a few minutes.

'Thor… do you love Loki? Even despite his _madness?_ Tony finally breaks the silence. Thor considers it for a briefest moment.

'Yes, I think so. I love my brother. The feelings are no something so easily dismissed. I have grown up with him, we have spent countless hours together, and even despite his faults, I cannot help but love him. Is there a reason to your question?'

'… there is some I – _love_,' Tony starts, making a funny face as he is saying the word, but Thor can understand why; he's never hear the man talk about feelings or emotions before. '_Unconditionally_.'

'Is it a choice of your heart, your maiden?' Thor inquires curiously; from what he has gathered, Tony used to court Miss Pepper, from what Thor has heard, but then they stopped meeting for unknown reasons and he didn't seem to have found himself a new companion since then.

'No,' Tony laughs, but it's guarded and rather sad. Then he seems to battle himself for a few moments, but in the end speaks up. 'It's – it's a child.'

This is a surprise, Thor has to admit; he wasn't aware that his friend was the kind that Darcy would call _a family man,_ or something similar. He simply offers a smile.

'Children tend to steal your heart when you least expect it.'

'You know,' Tony replies, giving Thor a long look, 'you are the only person, other than elderly ladies, who can say something like that and not sound shallow or naïve. But – aren't you… aren't you _surprised_?'

'I still know little of Midgard,' Thor explains, shaking his head and observing Tony's features. 'And therefore it's difficult for me to understand what you would consider _normal_ and what you wouldn't. I am hardly ever surprised, because I assume that many things are likely to happen here that I am not aware of, and such way of thinking makes my stay here easier.'

'I never thought about it this way, must be so strange for you, I mean, everything is really different here, and you're doing a good job, really, even if you are a _bit_ loud sometimes,' Tony teases, raising his hand again and smiling at the lady. 'Most people would be surprised to know that I have a child – ah. You didn't ask if it was my child, huh? And you've just tricked me into telling you, you sneaky, sneaky beast,' Tony states accusingly, pointing at Thor and squinting funnily.

Thor only smiles wider in response, but keeps silent. A moment later the lady brings him yet another drink, this time not bearing anything for Tony; Thor is glad the man has no problems with his appetite and his gusto when it comes to sustenance – _food_. But with Steve and Bruce on the team, who also eat surprisingly much for mortals, it must not be that extraordinary.

'Is that why you asked me if we have children that are _different_?' Thor asks softly. Tony nods, but doesn't look up. 'Is your child different than other children?'

'Different than 99% of them, surely,' Tony replies quietly. 'But he is amazing. He's just more… vulnerable. I am not sure if any words, any definitions I know will mean anything to you.'

'You know your child the best,' Thor replies, noting how the man's posture and tone changed when he started to talk about his offspring. It's something amazing that Thor has always admired in parents, that they seem to radiate their feelings, even if they try to hide them. 'You can explain it best. If you are willing to.'

'You're my teammate, Thor –'

'No,' Thor interjects firmly. 'Do not feel obliged. You do not own any explanation to us, to the team. You should only do what your heart is telling you.'

'…you're like out of a story,' Tony just replies, grinning. There is a tired note to his voice, but he doesn't seem to care. 'Okay, how about I _want_ to tell you? I don't know why and I have never expected myself wanting to tell anyone, not yet at least, but now I think I do. It's probably because you're such a mystery. I don't get you, but it's a compliment.'

'Thank you, friend,' Thor says, picking up his mug. There are flavors in the drink that he doesn't recognize and can't name, but it's just as good as the others, if not better.

'My son, he – he sees a world in a different way that most people do. Kinda like you, big man. It's just different levels, and it's different things… Anyway. Because I will start rambling, stop me if I do,' Thor smiles at that and lets Tony continue. 'He is a smart kid, but sometimes it's difficult for him to connect the dots, to understand things that are obvious for us. He has a hard time – communicating… Isn't a big talker like me. He likes some things very much and dislikes others and it's very bad if you mix those two up… He is – sensitive, my buddy. I mean, in mental sense, and in physical, too, doesn't like loud music, bright colors, too many things happening at once, it confuses him… We are working on it all. Ah, and – his name. It's Evelyn.'

'Evelyn. That is indeed a great name,' Thor decides, tasting the unfamiliar sound on his tongue. 'It seems worthy of the little warrior he must be.'

Just when he says that, Tony looks up and his eyes lit up, smile crawling onto his lips and turning into a wide, uncontrolled grin. Thor holds Tony's gaze, and the man seems like he suddenly took a deep breath after almost suffocating. It's an amazing change to watch, but it's disheartening too, because Thor understands that the man must have been anxious before, and he wishes he didn't make anyone feel like that.

'Thank you,' Tony mouths, as if he couldn't say the words aloud. Thor doesn't mind.

'I see he just needs more tender care and guidance than other children, Tony, judging by your words,' he continues. 'If we ever meet, I shall remember that.'

Tony stares at him for a few moments, his face unreadable, and Thor finished the excellent drink, deciding that it is his favorite; he really must take Darcy here sometime.

'You will be a great king,' Tony tells him when they stand up, voice filled with conviction. 'You've just earned yourself like, million brownie points in my register.'

Thor has no idea what _brownie points _might be, he only knows that Darcy is partial to a cake of similar name, but it doesn't explain the _points_. He knows that this is one of the constants around Tony, that the surprises never end, and it's a formidable ability.

* * *

**13.08.2013**

It's only two days before Tony invites Thor for coffee again, and this time they have a little companion. Thor can't stop smiling when he sees the two Midgardians getting out of a car that brought them almost in front of the café – Thor knows that Tony likes his privacy, and if they walked they would surely be spotted by _fans –_ and greets them solemnly when they enter the premises. Adele, the owner whose name Thor has finally learned, showed him a hidden part of the café, so that no one will disturb or stare at them. She seems to be one of the few people who know Tony's _secret_ and help him keep it just that.

'Hello, Thor,' Tony says, taking his the boy's hats off, their hair messy in the same nice way.

'Greetings, Tony,' Thor returns, and then looks at the tiny boy by his friend's side, who is looking up at him with his head cocked, but seems to stare behind, as if Thor's body was transparent; it is certainly interesting and Thor immediately wants to know why, but instead decides to keep the question for later. 'Hello, Evelyn. It is my pleasure to meet you.'

The boy blinks, but doesn't reply, wrapping his thin fingers around Tony's hand stronger. Thor smiles as he notices the movement.

'No worries. I heard you don't like talking. The appreciation of silence is a rare gift. And I think your father can talk for you two.'

The boy casts his head down, staring at the floor, but he smiles.

'Let's sit down and drink something nice,' Tony quips in, moving towards the place where the food is displayed. Thor follows. 'Which one would you like? The usual, or you're going to surprise me?'

'Green,' the boy says quietly, staring at the variety of sweet foods, fruit and beverages in front of him.

'Of course you would,' Tony murmurs and turns to Adele. 'The usual, for both of us. And whatever the name was of the third thing you served my buddy last time, he loved it.'

'Aye, I did,' Thor admits, offering the kind lady a smile.

They sit down by a table in the place Adele showed Thor before, they can't see or hear the crowd that seems to be filling the main part of the café. As soon as they come through the door, Evelyn seems to lose some of the tension that his shoulders were holding.

'We come her at least every two weeks. It's familiar to him,' Tony explains.

'That is a good routine. I appreciate this place a lot. It serves excellent food and the atmosphere is very welcoming. It is very different from any place that I have been to in Asgard, we have taverns and inns, and we don't have drinks similar to yours…' Thor starts and then, with a break when Adele brings the order, tells Tony some stories about his land. The man listens closely, asking questions, eyes shining in fascination, but he doesn't forget about Evelyn for even a second, being aware of where the boy is all the time.

Evelyn, Thor notices, also observing the boy subtly, doesn't seem that much different from other children. Of course, Thor can only say what he can see, and it's just a small part of what a person is, but the boy is happy and energetic, even if he doesn't talk besides that one word and if he avoids making any kind of contact with Thor. He drinks his green _smoothie_, which is apparently made out of various kinds of fruit that give the color and the flavor, and something called _almond milk_; then he gets a permission from Tony and sits on a big soft-looking cushion by the windows and takes out a strange electronic device. Tony notices Thor's confused face and explains:

'He's been having some trouble with spelling – it's difficult, I guess, for everyone who doesn't have the Allspeak,' Tony teases. 'This device? It just shows a name written down in two languages, and an image. The more he looks at it, the better he memorizes things.'

'Have you made it for him?'

'Sure thing. It was an easy thing –'

'You are a great parent,' Thor states seriously, eyeing between Tony and his son.

'Thanks, I guess?… Evelyn can speak both English and French fluently. And – we've got the code, you know? The one you asked me about. It's between him and me. When he was younger, he used to make up his own words for things, and some of them just stuck,' Tony explains, not looking away from the boy who is sitting cross-legged in the corner. 'So, when he is distressed and we talk on the phone, it's easier for me to calm him down if I use the code, 'cause it's associated with good things. It's not really a language, it's just – some phrases, really, that I repeat over and over. But it helps.'

'You would give him everything,' Thor can't help but observe, understanding those words and the way Tony behaves around his son. It really is _obvious_. Everyone who doesn't notice that must be completely blind.

'Yeah, I would,' Tony sighs. 'He _is_ worth _everything_.'

'That he is,' Thor admits and finishes his drinks, then gets up slowly. 'It really was a pleasure to meet you, young Evelyn. I hope we meet again soon in the future.'

Evelyn doesn't look up, flickering through something on the device with his right hand, but he gives Thor a wave with his free one, and seeing Tony's radiant smile, Thor can say it's a lot.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm glad you didn't mind Steve was long, this piece is shorter but longer than I planned anyway, just for you all.

**thefirstservant**, I am currently in Poland so unless you're somewhere in Central Europe I assume you cheer from far away! I plan one chapter with the team for now, but who knows... I guess it will depend on my motivation/time.

Thank you so much for so many comments on the last part! I hope Thor gets more, even if it's not likely since no one seems to like Thor as much as Steve :P He was the hardest to write so far, 'cause I've never tries Thor POV other than tiny ficlets, so I'd love feedback. I hope you enjoyed this piece! 3


	6. Bruce

**23.09.2012 **

It takes Bruce almost three months to make the decision.

He went with Tony the first night after they sent Loki away and stayed for over two weeks; it was amazing, living with the billionaire, even if it felt wrong and superfluous. Tony's ease helped a bit, but Bruce still felt very much out of place. When he decided he can't go one like that, one morning before Tony was awake, Bruce has left, asking JARVIS to tell Tony that he is sorry. Moving towards the border with Mexico and then getting lost in South America went with practiced ease. As soon as he left the USA, he threw out the StarkPhone that Tony gave him, surely equipped with a chip that JARVIS could track easily. He bought another cell phone, a random cheap model, but he did put contact numbers for S.H.I.E.L.D. there, just in case.

The next day at the bottom of his backpack he discovered a few rolls made out of more one hundred dollar bills that he would need to live for a year in an average third world country.

The three months were much easier than he had expected, but sometime in September Bruce started to feel restless. A different kind of restless than before, though, it was not so much the worry about the other guy harming someone, about creating damage, about running away and hiding – everything he didn't have to think about, being an Avenger – but it was, for the first time in _years_, the feeling that he was missing something.

In a moment of weakness he called Tony to ask how everything was going. It ended up being two hours of listening Tony's more and less subtle attempts to persuade him to come back. Bruce said no, but he called the man a few days later, too, and in the end he knew he needed to go back to New York.

The first day of autumn wasn't a deliberate choice, but it fits.

'So, who else is staying on their floors?' Bruce asks on the phone, a taxi from the airport crawling towards the Stark Tower through the typical morning rush.

'_Well, Brucey, I tried, I really tries, but none of our precious teammates chose to settle down with me… The all said they have to be somewhere else yet I think it's not gonna last long – but it's okay, anyway. I've been waiting for my special one –_'

'You are talking nonsense again, Tony,' Bruce sighs, shaking his head, but he can't help smiling a bit. The man is just insufferable.

'… _Steve said he might move in if I calm down a bit, and he is still disillusioned, he doesn't know that with your brain here I'm just going to do more science, not less!_'

'You are impossible. If you keep being around constantly, I think I will have enough of you after 24 hours.'

'_You wound me, my –'_

The voice is cut of as Bruce disconnects, stifling laughter. As much as he got used to living without electricity and running water, without floors in the houses or without a house at all, surrounded with sounds and smells that he needs to get used to, he was brought up in a city and he _feels at home_ among the tall ugly buildings.

The taxi stops in front of Stark Tower and the doors slide open before Bruce can even step out of the car. He gives the driver one of the hundreds, tells him to keep the change, and turns around only to be assaulted by too-cheerful Tony Stark himself.

'Come on, man, I've been waiting for you for so long with my toys,' Tony states, grabs his hand and begins to drag Bruce inside; it's all like a scene form a strange movie. Bruce starts to wonder if he's really made the right decision.

* * *

**30.09.2012**

The thing is, Bruce has expected Tony to be by his side say and night, the way he was back in May, dragging him from lab to lab, from project to project, showing him how the renovation of the tower was going, showing him plans and ideas, forcing him almost physically to go to one fast food joint or another…

This time, after introducing Bruce to his apartment – aka one half of the seventy seventh floor, _double lucky number_ according to Tony – the man disappears. Well, not literally, because he's been coming to talk with Bruce for a few moments every day but that was it. Bruce went up to find Tony two or three times, when he wanted to ask some questions, but Tony was just not there.

'I should be able to find answers for your queries, Doctor banner,' JARVIS offered and Bruce agreed; it's not his job to babysit Tony. The A.I., of course, knew all the answers.

So, on the last day of September, when Bruce is going from his apartment to Tony's lab – given JARVIS' _Sir is in his workshop –_ he doesn't expect anything special.

But when he gets out of the elevator and takes a turn to right to get to the 'shop's entrance, he freezes and gapes. The glass wall, usually opaque, is fully transparent now and Bruce can see the interior through it: the bots, the workbenches, the storage shelves, the armors' display; it's all bathed in a rather dim glow. Most of the lights are turned off and the green ones of something that looks like a gigantic modem, flickering constantly, seem pronounced.

And in the middle of the whole scene, there is Tony, sitting on the floor with a _guitar_ in his hands, and a young boy next to him, his gaze fixed on Tony's fingers. Then Bruce realizes that Tony's mouth is moving and he is _singing_.

Bruce has seen a lot of things – and has heard endless stories about Tony Stark – but this is something he's _never_ expected to experience. Even if the answer is pretty obvious: Bruce is a scientist and he thinks in theories and probabilities.

The boy doesn't move at all, just appears to be listening, his head cocked. He is sitting down, so it's more difficult to guess his age, but he seems to be around ten. He is completely concentrated on the music, but doesn't sing himself.

It takes Tony two or three minutes to notice that Bruce is standing outside, staring at them. He stops singing says something to the boy and gets up. Bruce feels _so much_ like he is an intruder.

'I forgot I promised to look with you at those specs yesterday,' Tony says, making a face, as soon as he's out of the workshop.

'Make it three days ago and you'd be closer to the truth, but I did it all myself, Tony, no problem,' Bruce replies, stopping himself for saying _well, it doesn't really matter now that there is a child in your workshop_, be just looks at Tony and then looks at the kid, who is still cross-legged on the floor, rocking gently and tapping his fingers on the floor.

'I got distracted? You know that happens with _science_ – and well,' Tony replies, following Bruce's stare, 'This is my son.'

'Wow, Tony – I _figured_ as much, why would you agree to a child in your personal space otherwise? It doesn't seem very likely.'

'You are sooo right, Bruce-chan,' Tony jokes, making Bruce raise an eyebrow. '_What_?'

'Why haven't you told me that you have a son before? A son living here in the tower? I wouldn't –'

'And this is the exact reason, you wouldn't move in,' Tony cuts in, 'and it would be a stupid reason and I didn't want you to do that so I didn't tell you, I wanted you to move in a lot and now you must feel bonded with your bed and workshop, please tell me you do, okay? Please? And I haven't been exactly forthcoming about Evelyn because I _don't_ want the fucking world to know too much and I know you are a friend and not a hostile but you would have learned anyway –'

'You are making my head hurt with all this chatter,' Bruce interrupts, giving Tony a meaningful glance.

'You… you won't move out, right?'

'I need to think about this,' Bruce answers seriously, considering. He _really _has to.

Let's leave wondering how the hell did it happened that Tony has a kid and that no one knew and that he's been bringing the boy up.

'No, you don't,' Tony informs him firmly. 'And don't start on the crap about being a threat and being dangerous and being a liability or whatever your stupid brain is coming up with right now. I asked you to stay here because of millions reasons and I trust you, and the fact that my son is living here doesn't change anything because _hello_, he's been here from the beginning, you just didn't _know_.'

'This is your son,' Bruce feels obliged to say. Tony's turn to arch an eyebrow. 'Like, _your son_. Forgetting everything else I want to ask you now, but – how can you be irresponsible enough to want _me_ here?'

As soon as he says these words, Bruce knows that it wasn't the wisest thing to actually voice. Tony's face changes for a second, before he puts on his usual mask. And then he laughs.

'You're like, parroting Steve –'

'Steve _knows_?!' Bruce can't help but exclaim; Captain was the one who helped Tony persuade him to come and stay in New York as a full-time Avenger. This is just a bit too unbelievable, Bruce would have never expect such lenience –

'I told him after that story with Ross, when the general wanted the army to go after you a few weeks after you've left… '

'You are insane, Tony,' Bruce tells the man, shaking his head, because clearly this has not been acknowledged by the genius billionaire. Tony just gives him a bored _so what_ look, as expected, and crosses his arms on his chest.

'You are his favorite Avenger,' Tony informs Bruce instead of saying something more… substantial, turning to look at the boy; the kid hasn't moved at all, Bruce notes with a small frown. 'He loves green,' Tony offers.

'He loves green,' Bruce repeats, feeling an irrational laughter bubbling in his chest. It might be slight panic, too, because he realizes that if the talks goes like this, he will lose the argument and it will not end well for anyone, that's for sure. And he is _not_ going to hurt an innocent child; he can deal with dumb adults who insist on being around him, but this is a bit too much. How do you counter an argument like _he loves green_, though?

But Tony says the sentence as if it has some sacral meaning.

'Evelyn, my dear science bro, is _unique_. If I say he loves green, it means he _loves_ green,' Tony states, waving his hand in the general direction of the workshop, and Bruce just now notices that it's only the green lights that are lit inside, all the ones that aren't normally green turned into the color. Wow.

'Why –'

'You've been staring at him for like full seven minutes, Brucey. You are a clever boy, put two and two together.'

'I don't even know what I am supposed to put together,' Bruce replies in a low voice, letting his frustration show. Tony is really acting like himself right now, and it would be a nice change if he tried to look at the situation from Bruce's point of view.

'Evelyn is autistic – gah, I _hate_ that sentence. But it's true enough. So you know. He likes green, green is routine. Makes him feel safe,' Tony offers casually. Bruce tears his eyes away from the child and turns slowly to look at Tony with a frown.

'You are bringing up an autistic child?' he repeats, feeling silly for parroting Tony's words _again_. 'Alone?'

'Since he was six,' Tony sighs. 'Since his mother died. Almost five years ago. And no,' Tony lets out a short laughter, 'are you _kidding_ me? You know I can't take proper care of myself sometimes and I've got way too much work and all the jazz to do a good job by myself. He – there is Flavie. She's been living with us for four years. She's as much of Evelyn's PA as Pepper is mine. And… he goes to school normally, he's got therapy a few times a week and he likes his time with Pep and Rhodey, when they can be around. We've just had music therapy, his teacher left a few minutes ago, but Evelyn insisted on showing me what he's learned. Well, like always. And he makes me sing to him, too, but that's okay, you don't know I've got a killer's singing voice and I so do. He's a connoisseur.'

Bruce listens to Tony's voice and observes the man without blinking, trying to figure him out. The Tony Stark that he thought he's known the previous day would never say any of these things, but somehow, the person that is standing in front of Bruce now seems _more_ Tony-ish, by some miraculous force. Bruce has no idea how that can work, it's against all laws of logic, but it _does_ work.

'Stop staring at me,' Tony scolds him, rolling his eyes. 'Don't make it look like you don't have secrets on your own –'

'They are not a child, and I don't keep them away from my friends, Tony.'

'Fuck, Bruce, are you going to be the problematic one? I wanted you to acclimatize yourself with this place. Yeah, there maybe was a bit of blackmail involved, 'cause you'd have your silly objections if I told you before, but I was going to do that anyway – why do you think I left the wall transparent? JARVIS informs me about everything that might concern my son, he said you were going to see me. But I said _okay, let Bruce come_. Got it?'

'Yes, Tony,' Bruce replies tiredly, finding himself playing with the glasses that suddenly happen to be in his hands. 'I need to think about it.'

'… you could at least come and meet him before you go,' Tony tells him in a quiet voice, eyes trained on _his son_. Bruce looks away from Tony and follows his gaze. Now the boy has the guitar in his hands, it's too big for him but he doesn't seem to mind, it looks like he's playing a song with concentration.

'Emotional blackmail?' Bruce teases weakly.

'… okay, I know why you'd think of me in those categories, but Brucey, it's just what would be the best for you and him. Just say hello. If you don't want, well… I need to be going in a few minutes. We've got a meeting we need to get to in an hour, and snack time before that. He's a really hue fan of his regular hours,' Tony explains, never looking away from the child. It's impossible not to notice how his eyes are shining and how he's grinning with this small lopsided smile. 'Now, ask me whatever you want to ask 'cause I can feel your brain overheating, my science buddy, and this is _no good_ to your synapses.'

'I know you probably get this a lot – well, maybe not that much since not many people know…' Bruce starts, still playing with his glasses unconsciously. 'And I apologize if this is not an appropriate questions to ask –'

Tony laughs.

'You're being much too cautious, _Doctor_, what happened to your usual straightforward and sarcastic self?' Tony asks, but still doesn't look away from the kid. His voice is just a bit warmer though. 'I know what you want to ask, of course you would. No, Bruce, he is _not _a geniuslike Howard was and like I am, he is – he's just a normal kid. Average, you could say. He's real good with numbers, but he's not _exceptional_, academically. And I. Don't. Care – come on, don't make that guilty face,' Tony adds, looking at Bruce. 'Everyone asks this question, _aren't you disappointed he is nowhere near as clever as you_, and we are _okay _with that, both of us. _I_ would ask myself this questions if I wasn't me –'

'So it's just –'

'It was difficult,' Tony interrupts Bruce again, suddenly much more serious. 'At the beginning. You know how I am – well, everyone knows how I am, but that's not the point; I could be responsible and act like an adult my whole life, I just chose not to, and when Evelyn happened in my life, I said okay, let's do it. It was a really tough couple of months, getting used to each other. I'm _chaos_. I talk too quickly and too loud, I use metaphors and comparisons and slang all the time, I'm bouncing from idea to idea all the fucking time and you know it. I had to learn to… calm down, I guess? To speak clearly, the way that wouldn't confuse him. To be patient and open. To _not_ rely on JARVIS to tell me his routine hours. It was all totally upside down, we couldn't understand each other, I was a stupid shit and made Evelyn cry a lot more than I'd like to admit and he made me want to run away from the problems and responsibility – but we worked it out. We are good now. Me and him, we're the best buddies you can imagine.'

Bruce stays silent for a few moments, contemplating Tony's words. He still can't get how come he himself is so cool with the revelation; he would have expected to be shocked. And he isn't. He is just trying to understand.

'Bruce?' Tony prompts, apparently waiting for some kind of an answer for a question that wasn't asked.

'Tony, I…' Bruce starts, rubbing his hands on his face tiredly. 'I admire what you are doing. I admire that you've managed to keep this secret for your kid's sake. This is far – far more than I have expected of you. Completely different. I would think you'd rather make a kid than have a real one,' Tony scoffs, but it's stifled and mocking at the same time and Bruce can't help but wonder for a second if Tony _really_ made a child robot at some point. 'I'm just happy that you are this amazing person who loves their child no matter what, I've seen enough of those parents that give up or are embarrassed or hate their kids, even the _healthy _ones, for not being perfect. And from a scientific point of view –'

'There is no cure,' Tony cuts in.

'There is nothing that needs to be cured,' Bruce shots back, making Tony look at him sharply. 'There _isn't_.'

'I know, I _know._ But – I still wish things were different, sometimes,' Tony murmurs almost inaudibly. 'And I'm fucking ashamed of that. It's just the frustration when things are not all right, when we struggle, when it's difficult, I wish we didn't have those problems and I wonder how it is to be a parent to kids who don't have such problems – and I don't even have the right to complain, I have a full-time therapist-nanny that works with my kid and a lot of supportive people and all the resources I might need and I don't _struggle_ with such things. There are people who are in this on their own and they can't even get good professional help when their insurance doesn't cover it or something, 'cause they don't have the money and it's such a mess and I am lucky here – _we_ are lucky. I love him and I miss him when he is not here, I just don't miss his behaviors. I don't miss his problems. And they are integral part of who he is, and I wish they weren't –'

'You know what, Tony,' Bruce interrupts with a snicker. 'Are you sure you're talking about your son and not about _me_?'

Tony blinks and lets out a short laugh, but it takes him a long moment to actually reply.

'Yeah. You're right,' he smiles. 'No more whining – JARVIS?'

'Ten minutes, sir,' the A.I. replies, apparently aware of the questions that Bruce doesn't know.

'Gotta fetch him now,' Tony informs Bruce and sighs. 'He could spend a whole day without eating or drinking or moving with this guitar, if I let him. The music calms him down… Anyway. You coming?'

'Maybe some other time, Tony –'

'Okay,' Tony sighs. 'At least let me introduce you? Like, this is Doctor Banner aka Hulk, let's go get you food? No… don't say anything. It's not a question!' he adds, entering the workshop. Bruce can't hear what he says, but it's only on or two sentences and the boy hands him the instrument and gets up. He leaps across the room, Tony following him with an amused face, and a moment later they are both facing Bruce.

'This is Doctor Banner, Evelyn,' Tony states easily, meeting Bruce's eye.

'Hulk,' the boy states. _So, he is verbal_, Bruce can't help but think. Evelyn isn't looking at Bruce, though, but that's nothing unexpected. 'I like – green,' the boy adds and flashes Bruce a smile, then lets go of Tony's hand and runs up the stairs. Tony observes him with raised eyebrows.

'Told ya he's feeling better after the music therapy, he doesn't normally say a word to strangers…'

'Oh, I feel honored,' Bruce replies half-jokingly and half-seriously. Tony _totally_ _gets it_.

'You should,' he confirms in the same tone. 'You know what I love him for most?' he adds more solemnly; Bruce stays silent, letting him elaborate. 'He changed me. He – changes me, still, all the time. He shows me a world that I have never even considered before,' Tony winks at Bruce and runs after the boy.

Bruce decides he shouldn't be surprised they both have this special Stark charm that wins you in a matter of seconds, that's exactly what Tony did on the Helicarrier. The son and the _dad_ are so natural and absolutely adorable, not that Bruce would ever say that out loud… Instead he smiles wider and fails completely at ignoring the warm fuzzies settling down in his stomach. _Of course_ he will stay in Stark Tower now.

He knew he was going to lose this argument.

* * *

**A/N: **First of all, thank you all soooo much for all the reviews! I never expected you all to like Thor so much and I'm very happy you appreciated my take at his personality! It was so amazing to hear from you all, please keep it up! :)))

I had _a lot_ of trouble with Bruce, I've always known he's be the toughest one to write mostly because I don't really know how to interpret his character, he's a lot of issues and contradictions and ah. I hope you enjoyed this piece anyway.

So, two more parts I am very excited for left, Clint and the team! (although maybe maybe and argument could me made for JARVIS? xd) I will try my best to keep my posting schedule and have the next piece ready for Tuesday.


	7. Clint

**09.10.2012 **

Clint sneaks into Stark Tower the day before all the Avengers, sans Bruce who already is living there, are supposed to move in. Well, sneaks in is kind of presumptuous since it turns out that no matter how many crazy ops Clint has done in his live, all across the globe, getting into the Tower unnoticed is impossible. Of course because of JARVIS. He really is omnipotent sometimes.

Clint doesn't bring his things yet, not that there are many: maybe two duffle bags. There is a lot of stuff in his room that he simply can't be bothered to take with himself, especially knowing Tony and his eagerness to provide everyone with everything.

The Avengers have been granted access to their own apartments and their common floor, as well as all the spaces below, including a gym, a swimming pool, R&D levels, offices… Basically everything besides Tony's workshop #2 in the basement, the workshop #1 below the penthouse and the last two floors, a living space for Tony himself. And Pepper, sometimes.

So the true reason of the sneaking into the main area is to see if Tony has the kitchen stocked. Sure, he could ask, but it's not as much fun to just plain ask, and he kind of needs to know the answer to make an assessment of big plans for tomorrow. And Clint is very meticulous when it comes to groceries if he plans to cook.

When he enters the kitchen, having greeted JARVIS – no more playing fool and pretending he doesn't know the A.I. is aware of his presence since the very beginning even if JARVIS seemed kind of amused, as much as a computer can be, at least – he sees a young woman sitting by the counter and flipping through an actual newspaper.

Clint freezes in the doorway, wondering who she might be; she doesn't look like one of Stark's usual conquests, too domestic and casual and relaxed, too – familiar with the space.

She looks up a moment later, frowning and smiling at the same time.

'Hello,' Clint is the first to speak. If she is here, than surely Stark knows and he's let her in, so it must be okay. 'I'm Clint, and you are?...'

'Flavie,' she replies with a thick French accent.

'I know we weren't supposed to be here today,' Clint continues, taking a few steps ahead and looking around the bright room, 'but I'm on a grocery run for tomorrow's big team dinner. I bet you are privy to all the info, since you are here?'

The woman nods, marking a page in the paper and closing it. Then she glances at the plastic watch on her wrist.

'Yes. I am French – of course dinner is important,' she replies with a smirk. Clint decides that whoever she is, he will like her from now on. 'Make sure to include some avocado and _petits pois…_'

'Peas,' Clint supplies with a smile.

'Peas,' she repeats nodding. 'Yes.'

'Any particular reason?'

'You will know,' she replies and winks at him, getting up from the table. Clint decides he loves her accent, but not as much as Natasha's Russian one when she doesn't play American. 'I need to go now – are you looking for Mister Stark? He will be back in fifteen minutes.'

'No, not really looking for him, though I guess if I am here now and you know it, this won't be as much of a surprise as I'd like, so well. I guess we could exchange a few sentences before he throws me out of the tower,' Clint laughs. He liked to play on Tony's nerves and Tony likes to indulge him into pretending he really cares.

'So you want to wait here or upstairs?...'

'No, no need, I'll just stay here, look around a bit, make a mental list of to-but things to mention to Tony this house is lacking to make him roll his eyes and give me his black AmEx…'

Flavie laughs easily and disappears a moment later with her magazine and Clint lets her go without further interrogation, knowing very that he could have asked and given her openness she would probably share what exactly she's doing in Tony's life, but Clint enjoys a nice mystery.

'JARVIS, should I really include avocado and peas into my amazing menu, or was she just being funny?' he asks the A.I. moving from cupboard to cupboard and examining the contents; of course it is all stocked, it was kind of silly to think otherwise, but Clint has already noticed two or three things of those he will need missing.

'That would be advisable, Agent.'

'I guess I can't know why?'

'That depends on Sir only,' JARVIS replies, but it sounds almost like he was stifling a smile. Only that A.I.s don't smile, now, do they?

'Well, I guess I will have to endure the suspense… is there cream of tartar somewhere?'

'No, there isn't.'

'Okay, add cream of tartar to the list…' Clint mumbles to himself, moving to the last cupboard.

'Why would you need cream of tartar?' A voice suddenly appears across the room; Clint doesn't jump, he's far too well-trained for that, but he turns around sharply, annoyed with himself for letting Tony sneak up on him like that.

'It's the best stabilizer for egg whites, genius. Weren't you supposed to be here like in a few minutes, according to your pretty lady?'

'Yeah, I guess, but there was less traffic than usually… And Flavie is not my girl, but whatever. She said you're planning to make us a grand dinner tomorrow. True?'

'There goes my secret – but yeah,' Clint admits, finishing looking though the stuff in the last cupboard and closing it. 'I hear there is a need of avocados and peas –'

'That golden girl, she always thinks ahead,' Tony murmurs making Clint frown a bit. Tony sighs. 'Yeah, I can predict your question now, _why_? And I guess I _owe_ you an explanation, since you're gonna be on by head all the time now – come on.'

'Come on?' Clint repeats, opening a package of dried strawberries and tossing some into his mouth casually. Divine.

'The answer's upstairs,' Tony just says mysteriously and moves to the elevator so Clint follows obediently. He can say Stark is a bit… tense, it's in the posture. And he's got a serious face which is very much not typical, sooo…

It takes them a moment to get those few levels higher.

_The answer_, ironically enough, turns out to be a _boy_.

_What. The. Hell?_

Clint sighs and eyes Tony who has all-innocent look on his face. Clint shakes his head and sighs again; he guesses he should be more surprised than he is, but he just smiles at Stark – exactly because the man would expect him to ask questions and act curious. Hell, Clint _is_ curious, but he has always preferred figuring things on his own, getting his own intel to asking for answers. Especially that the answer is probably painful. Or at least difficult, it always is.

The boy, maybe ten or eleven, Clint guesses, is sitting by the table, the cutlery placed neatly in front of him, and drums his fingers on the table in a clear rhythm. He doesn't look back when Tony and Clint emerge from the elevator, even though it makes a soft but distinctive noise. A moment after they step out, Flavie comes from somewhere – the kitchen? – holding a plate and a bowl in her hands.

'That's Evelyn – let's not disturb him now,' Tony says, gesturing at the sofa. Clint follows and sits on the back, resting his feet in shoes where his ass should be, but Tony doesn't mind at all.

Clint observes how the boy eats, how he arranges his food on the place and honestly, it takes him just a few moments to figure it out. If you have the right pieces, it's only a matter of time to put them together.

'Is he autistic?' he asks. Tony turns to look at him, blinking, and then frowns.

'Yeah –'

'He verbal?' Clint continues, looking away from Tony's surprised face to look at the boy.

'Yeah, but he's not a big fan of speaking –'

'Signs?'

'_Yes_, but how–' Tony starts again, irritated that he's not managing to ask his question. Clint flashes him a smile and replies to the unsaid words.

'I had a friend with HFA, back in the orphanage… You know how it must have ended. I've been playing the good guy and even my fucking brother laughed at me for hanging out with a _weirdo._ And then – Phil's niece. I met her a few times in my life only, but she is a great girl… I can put two and two together. And you know I do observation for a living.'

'Hell, Clint,' Tony breathes and pauses for a moment 'Yeah, I know. I guess – I don't need to make you any lectures? You're not shocked or something?'

'I'm surprised you don't have a dozen of illegitimate kids somewhere,' Clint jokes, sticking his tongue at Tony who looks a bit distraught. 'He likes avocado and peas?' Clint adds, watching the boy carefully pick carrot sticks one by one, dipping them in something, and eating. Exactly twelve chews each time, Clint can't help but notice.

'Yeah, loves everything green – wait, you like _children_?'

'Have I said that?' Clint's turn to be surprised.

'You're grinning like crazy,' Tony explains. Clint grins even wider. He loves it when people are confused. Makes you try to figure yourself out even more, makes their attention away from Clint's own confusion and feelings.

'He'll be a great buddy,' Clint states truthfully.

'How do you know _that_?'

'I read people for a living, remember? Primary objective, comes before killing aliens and stuff…'

'Yeah, sure,' Tony says skeptically, eying Clint in the special way only he does. The unique quirks are definitely one of the things that make everyone get charmed easily. 'So, you're just – okay with this?'

'Yup,' Clint agrees. At least he thinks so; of course each of the cases is different but he is not going to dismiss anyone based on a trait or disability or a problem. He's had a fair share of that in his life and call it justice or karma or whatever, but he doesn't plan to ever do something like that to anyone else because it fucking hurts. 'Just, is there anything else I have to know?'

'If you know the general stuff, I guess not really… He doesn't like to be touched a lot, though. You've got to earn his permission, otherwise he will be very upset and you _don't_ want to see him very upset. Well, no state of upset is preferable, but I can manage the usual. Well, me or Flavie – she lives here. As you might have guessed by now. She makes sure I don't fuck up with his schedules what, I tell you, is a task that truly requires to be rewarded with a million dollars a month.'

Clint looks at Tony questioningly, looking for an answer if the man is joking or not – seriously, it wouldn't be beyond him – but it'd a bit crazy even for Tony.

'No, I _don't_ pay her a million a month, Clint, I've done a lot of strange stuff – by the way, I offered. She refused.'

'What a humble girl…' Clint murmurs, but Tony doesn't raise the bait.

'Well, you know, I met her in France – it was by an accident. A few months after I've started to take care of Evelyn. We've gone through three _nannies_ in that time and none of the worked well enough and I couldn't manage everything by myself, no matter how much I tried. Evelyn – it was a difficult time when he was younger. He was much less responsive. Didn't listen to me, threw tantrums, missed him mother like hell, not that it was surprising, but… I don't know. I just wanted him to be better and learn how to help him and nothing – no one – worked. He used to engage into self-injurious behavior and it hurt me so fucking much to see it… You know. Old stories,' Tony says with a sigh, shaking his head as if he wanted to make the memories go away. 'So, we met by accident, I will spare you the story, and I told her about Evelyn. I don't know why because back then only Pepper and Rhodey and his doctors knew, he didn't even go to school. She said she was training to take care of _special needs_ children. Again, long story made short, she would do anything to leave the place where she was living. She said she would work for free if she could get away. So I promised her to take care of it, I made sure she could legally work in the USA and put her on kind of a _probation_ – see if she and Evelyn could work – and it was like a _miracle_.'

'Wow,' Clint just says, even without the details he can imagine what the situation must have been like. He's been in a similar one before.

'I pay her ten grand but I _would_ pay her a million if she accepted it.'

'I'm sure you would,' Clint admits. The sum should probably shock him, but it's _Tony Stark_, so it doesn't even seem that bountiful.

Clint doesn't look away from Evelyn though, taking in the tin details of the boy's physics and mentally cataloguing all that he is able to notice.

When the boy puts the last carrot stick into his mouth, Tony stands up.

'He has celery days or carrot days, you never know which one it is – he's done with the food now.'

Clint nods – make sense – and follows Tony. Evelyn turns around, hearing them; he acted as if he was oblivious of their presence while he was eating. Focusing on his set task. That's the kind of behavior that Clint is familiar with.

'Remember that time when we talked about my friends moving into the tower? This is the last one. Clint, Evelyn. Evelyn, Clint.'

_The last one?_ Clint mouths, blinking, but Tony just offers him a crooked smile. _The last one? As in everyone else somehow knew about this before and I didn't? _Clint rolls his eyes mentally and makes a face at Tony.

He _knew_ Natasha was hiding something – _wow_. Suddenly a lot of the tiny details he's been dismissing 'cause they were confusing and seemed pointless start to make sense.

Clint pushes away the thoughts for now though; he can think about all that later. He's got something else to take care of now; he crouches to be at the same height level as the boy – small for his age, Clint notes – and smiles. Evelyn doesn't meet his eyes, not really, but the boy is looking more or less into the direction of his face.

'_Hello_,' he signs. The boy moves his head sharply to stare at his hands. '_I am C-l-i-n-t. Nice to meet you_.'

'_E-v-e-l-y-n_,' the boy spells out with his fingers.

Tony stares, Clint can feel the man's eyes on his back.

'_Your dad said you don't like talking. Do you like signing?'_

'_More,' _the boy replies tentatively, glancing up to see Tony's face, as if looking for approval. Tony must be smiling or something, but as if it wasn't enough for the boy he tells him to continue.

'_Why do you sign?_'

'_No noise,_'Evelyn replies immediately. Clint nods in understanding.

'Does he have noise-protection headphones?' he asks, turning to Tony who is staring at them with this special little smirk.

'Sure he does. Helps a lot, right, Evelyn?'

'Yes,' comes the reply. A spoken word.

The kid's voice is high and sweet and perfect; Clint suddenly realized how much he's missed kids. It's a bit ridiculous, given his childhood memories, but… he has somehow – he still doesn't know how – become the orphanage's and circus' _mama_. All the kids would come to talk to him when they needed some support and there were no adults to turn to. Clint can't even remember how that started, it just did and then there was no going back. Barney hated it. The older boys called him _fag_ and _sissy_ and _fuck-up_ but Clint couldn't bring himself to care too much because he had – responsibility. He just proved himself in so many fights, beating up older kids by sheer force of persistence and cunning, until they left him mostly alone.

It was kind of the same situation like bringing Natasha in. She was like a lost brainwashed puppy – and yes, she beat him up nicely in a sparring session after he's told her that, but a few days later she admitted there was some truth to it.

'_Sometimes I don't like the sounds, too,_' Clint offers. The boy considers his words for a moment.

'_Why? Are you like me_?'

'_No_,' Clint replies, smiling, then takes out one of his hearing aids. Tony has known he has a hearing damage, after a mission gone wrong a few years back; he is just pretty daft for a genius sometimes, not connecting the dots and predicting that Clint would know ASL. '_I don't hear well and I use this to make it better, but sometimes my ears are tired and it makes me angry and it hurts so I prefer silence._'

'_Me too_,' Evelyn's eyes light up and he smiles widely. '_Headphones. Dad understands. And you, too. I am happy._'

'_That's very good, friend. Are you my friend?_' Clint signs, deciding to do what he feels is the right thing. Evelyn's head turns to Tony who probably signs him something, but Clint doesn't look up, he keeps observing the emotions playing on the boy's face. He looks impassive maybe, behind his almost too wide smile, but Clint understands how difficult for him it is, to express him feelings.

'_Yes,' _the boy answers in the end. '_Do you like l-e-g-o-s and weather forecast, too?_'

Clint laughs. He is sure Evelyn's voice would be hopeful at this point.

'_I like l-e-g-o-s_,' he signs. '_I don't care about the weather_.'

'_You should_,' the boy replies immediately, looking up at Tony and Clint follows his eyes. Tony is observing them still with the same smile, only that he looks a bit theatrically resigned now.

'Evelyn is obsessed with weather. You will be an expert son enough,' Tony explains and checks his watch. 'But – time to go, son. Sorry to make the meeting short. You will have more time tomorrow, Clint will come and cook for us – yes, something special green for you, Evelyn. Remember, we have a meeting with Doctor in half an hour and you need to pack some things for that…'

Evelyn blinks and waves Clint a goodbye before running of and disappearing into one of the halls, it takes just a second before he's gone.

'Wow,' Tony states, looking at Clint with fascination mixed with awe, 'you are like… instant buddy-machine? I'm amazed here. No, I really am – he's never been that open with anyone. It usually takes him _at least_ a few hours to familiarize himself with a person. Can I keep you?'

'Are you going to pay me ten grand?' Clint replies immediately, looking at Tony expectantly.

'You can consider letting you stay in an apartment here rent-free a pay, in the real world you'd pay that or more for the view you have.'

'But Tooony,' Clint whines, walking around the man and having hard time at not bursting out laughing. 'Everyone gets that…'

'I will buy you whatever food things you might want for your cooking –'

That is something Clint can agree to.

'Okay –'

'… provided that you'll always make something for the little monster. We can go over the yes-foods and the no-foods later.'

'Deal,' Clint agrees straight away, ideas already rushing through his head. He takes Tony's hand and shakes it firmly. 'Now I will disappear and go buy what I need by myself and we can schedule out food date for later,' Clint finished, signs Tony _goodbye, until tomorrow_ and hops into the stand-by open elevator.

Now, he _really_ wants to have a talk with Natasha and then see Tony being a daddy 'cause it's been freaking amazing and cute so far, and he is sure it will still be. And Clint has a few new theories to verify.

* * *

**A/N:**Expected/unexpected? I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Would you like to see a JARVIS one?

Thanks again for all your support! I'll love you forever if you leave me a review :)


	8. Tony

**22.11.2012 / Tony**

Tony told the team that no matter what happens on 22nd he will be out of commission.

And of course, _of course_ there has to be an assemble call; there is something strange going on in Texas and to assure the safety of all the residents for a few hours, until they know what's going on, S.H.I.E.L.D. needs its response team to be onsite.

Fury calls early in the morning, around six. Only Evelyn is asleep at this point as he normally sleeps until seven. Natasha and Clint are running with Steve, Bruce is making himself a breakfast – and, by extension, leaving something ready for everyone hungry – and Thor is Thor, he doesn't require sleep like humans do. Tony himself got up at four and went straight to the workshop; Thor has suggested more than once, in more or less serious way, that maybe Tony has a drop of Asgardian blood as he needs so little sleep.

'I'd love to, buddy, but that's just how some people operate. A very small number but it happens,' Tony replied regretfully.

Thor decided that it's fascinating and bugged the team for a week, claiming that he was studying Midgardian customs and everyone pretended they believed; it was half truth – and half his mischievous nature.

Saying that the place is buzzing with activity would be too much, but everyone is awake enough and able to be in the kitchen within five minutes from the first call. They sit by the table, munching on whatever they have close enough to reach without moving – it's mostly crackers with cream cheese and Pop-Tarts, depending on personal preference for sweet or salty, save Bruce who is finishing his half-done eggs as if it didn't matter that they are a bit raw.

'We need the team,' Fury repeats as soon as he is sure they are all there.

'What is the case, Director?' Steve asks in his captain-voice, making Tony smirk; he still loves to reminisce every single time Steve defies Fury and Fury has to give in because Steve is a person who doesn't change their mind, at least not if it's a matter of conviction. Cap doesn't protest much but when he does, it's non-negotiable.

'We got an information from one of our top fives that he wants a _meeting_ and if we don't accept the _invitation_, there will be consequences that the whole country will _feel_. I am inclined to believe him. He says he has a proposition and we can only guess – or hope – what it is and I need _you_ to be _there_ in case something goes wrong.'

'So it's one man?' Steve inquires, waiting for a clarification; Tony knows perfectly well what he's doing and he is so fucking thankful.

'Yes, _one man_, Rogers, not enough for you to have your fun?' Fury snaps in his usual manner; everyone at the table just rolls their eyes and continues eating. It's really quite funny; Tony can't help but wonder what would the Americans think if they knew what they favorite heroes were doing in their free time.

'Is he armed?'

'_We don't know_,' Fury growls. Ah. That's how you annoy your director. 'We need you here ASAP and your talk is no helping –'

'We'll be going out within five minutes,' Steve says and Tony's heart skips a bit as he looks at the captain sharply, but Steve is staring at the cracker in front of him mindlessly. '… Iron Man is not coming in,' he adds. Tony smiles. They didn't forget.

He wishes they all could, every single one of them.

'What the _fuck_ do you mean, Rogers? Are you playing one of your _this is my team _games again?' Fury asks, anger clear in his voice; the funny thing is that Tony can totally understand.

'Iron Man is not coming,' Steve repeats firmly. He doesn't have to add the magical _non-negotiable._

'I need you all here, you moronic idiot, you _don't realize_ how dangerous this man could be –'

'No, sir.'

'Romanov –'

'No one on the team is going to support you on this one, _Director_,' Natasha cuts in. '_Sorry_.'

'Don't you fuck with me, Romanov,' Fury says again, his voice even lower now. 'It that the next story of the series _leave him alone_ and _he doesn't have to train with us_ and _I've got to leave_ where he's never there and disappears? What game are you playing? Each of you is an Avenger and each of you has some obligations to S.H.I.E.L.D. and to the country –'

'There are obligations more important than those, sir,' Steve states, getting up; of course the rapidness of the movement gets lost on the phone. 'We are wasting time. I need my time to suit up, grab the gear and fly out in the Quinjet. Until later, Director,' he finishes and waves at JARVIS to disconnect the call. 'Will you two be all right on your own?'

'Yeah, sure. I've got Flavie, in case,' Tony replies in a quiet voice, looking at his teammates' – friends' faces. 'You go. Time hasn't stopped yet. And bring us a postcard if you have time to get one.'

'Sure thing, man,' Clint says before he disappears with Natasha; one by one they leave the kitchen and the last to step out is Steve.

'Good luck, Tony. I… I hope it'll be okay.'

Then he leaves, too, and Tony is all alone in the big room. He fixes himself a coffee and makes a sandwich since he knows very well that he will need a lot of energy today – November 22nd. 5th anniversary of Annis' death – and a kid who doesn't forget numbers.

Tony called the school and cancelled all of his meetings and Evelyn's appointments for the day in advance since he's had the same experience every year. The best plan, so far, is stay home, try to distract Evelyn and fail, try to explain death to him and mostly fail, try to console him and usually fail; it hurts them both so fucking much.

Evelyn doesn't know how to express himself, how to deal with the feelings and memories and Tony hasn't found a way of helping him yet, effective in such extreme situations. Everyday crisis is okay, but this – no. This is an entirely different story.

Each year Tony hopes that it will be easier this time; that Evelyn will understand more because he is older – eleven now and not ten and not eight. He's made a big progress this year, he's changed for the better, he's learned a lot, he's made friends, for fuck's sake. He's even made an adult friend, even if Tony still can't wrap his mind around how Clint and his son just _happened_.

It took Clint three days to go from no touch to causal touch without asking. The previous record – anyone other than Tony and Flavie, his primary caretakers – was two weeks.

But Tony doesn't let himself hope _too much_ because he doesn't want to be disappointed and he doesn't want Evelyn to be disappointed. What happens, happens and Tony is willing to accept it all.

Evelyn has stolen his heart a long time ago, and it was not slow and constant but rapid and crazy and it was stronger that Tony would have expected himself to be capable of.

It surely will be no words day. Evelyn _hates_ too much noise on his worse days and this is the worst, so Tony fully expects the boy to be wearing his headphones – like a responsible person he is – _in advance_. It's one of his way of giving Tony a hint that today might be difficult. It's not always possible to predict, but apparently sometimes his son just wakes up knowing that it will be a crappy day; it's an acquired ability and Tony is yet to find out why the boy just suddenly started to display at some point.

* * *

Evelyn waking up, washing and putting on clothes goes better than expected. He says _no headphones_ when Tony grabs them from the desk. Tony's eyes shoot up, but he leaves them in their usual place.

Breakfast doesn't go well because Evelyn refuses to eat anything. Even green things; Tony has prepared a supply of those to persuade him to eat but it's not working. It's rather surprising at first because it's choosing to break the routine on purpose, but – it isn't, really: Evelyn stays at the table and pushes the food around for as long as it would normally take if he ate.

Tony figures letting him skip the meal is a much better solution than trying to force him to eat. He doesn't let himself be angry or disappointed; instead he proposes they play for some time. Whatever Evelyn wants.

No one is surprised when he chooses legos and they start playing as soon as he is sufficiently informed on the weather all over the world, thanks to JARVIS aka weather-channel-for-the-day; Tony has a moment to clean up the kitchen and grabs some snacks in case there was a hunger emergency.

'I'm a big boy,' Evelyn states at some point, maybe an hour into the game. He is building a giant train station and Tony is finishing the roof of his plane.

'Sure you are,' Tony agrees, wondering what brought it on.

'I am eleven years and three months and eight days old. No seconds.'

'No, seconds would be too detailed.'

'_Maman_ disappeared five years ago. Five years minus… three hours,' Evelyn continues and Tony wonders where it is going; it hurts so fucking much to hear Evelyn speaking in his usual flat voice about an event that has changed his live drastically. You never get used to that.

'Died, Evelyn. Not disappeared,' Tony corrects even though _ouch_.

'Died,' the boy tastes the word at his tongue as if he's never said it before. It's entirely probable, Tony could ask JARVIS but come on. It's not the point. 'When will you die?' Evelyn continues, abandoning the toys, letting them fall out of his hands, but he doesn't look at Tony. 'When will I die?'

'I don't know. Not anytime soon,' Tony replies, knowing that it's nowhere near enough.

'I _want to know_,' Evelyn hisses, balling his hands into fists. 'I _want _to_ know_. Did you know _maman_ would die?'

'No, Evelyn,' Tony replies patiently. This one they've gone through. 'I would have done something if I knew. But I couldn't.'

'You couldn't,' Evelyn parrots and everyone else might have thought that he's being accusatory but Tony knows better than that. 'You couldn't. I am – ah. Sad. I am sad, sad, sad,' he repeats, voice steady and emotionless, shaking his head sharply and starting to play with his hands, moving them up and down his leg, rubbing the fabric as if it were a charm. 'She died and I am sad, so sad, and you are sad. _Hurts_,' he says at the end. It's all the same tone; Tony knows that someone who doesn't know the kid would consider it strange. Possibly scary. But it's _ Evelyn._

'What hurts?' Tony asks for clarification.

'Everything,' comes the answer and it's not helpful at all: it could mean either that Evelyn is physically hurting or that it's just the next level of being sad. He continues to rub his hand across his thigh strongly, though, and it's the clue that Tony needs. Sure, Evelyn sometimes does that just like that but not this time. It's like solving Maths problems. Two plus two.

'Does your skin hurt?' he inquires and Evelyn nods.

_Ah_. This doesn't happen too often since it's usually noises that annoy and hurt Evelyn, but it's not like it hasn't happened before.

'Let's go,' he says, but the boy doesn't move. 'Come, I will help you and it won't hurt,' Tony explains patiently, but Evelyn is looking away and not reacting. 'I will take you then,' Tony tells the boy so that it won't be a surprise and comes up to him, then lifts him up. The skinny arms wrap around his neck immediately. 'We're gonna make it okay, Evelyn,' Tony assures the boy, moving quickly towards the elevator. 'JARVIS, heat up the room to the usual temperature. Set the lights and everything the way we did last time.'

'Of course,' the A.I. replies promptly.

A few moments later they are in Evelyn's sensory-free room, tropically warm, lights dimmed, no sound. Tony undresses the boy to underwear and he seems to relax immediately. It has been a few months since Evelyn has complained about his skin being oversensitive to the point where the only comfortable way to be was – almost naked. He used to do that _a lot_ when he was a young kid, before Tony started to take care of him; that's what his grandmother said and what Tony's found in the medical files.

For Evelyn's comfort, Tony lets him chose what to do and the boy decides he wants to see a movie, so that's it. It's surprising that he doesn't complain on the noise like usually, but maybe the sensitivity is just showing differently today.

Honestly, despite the routine, every single day is a mystery with a child with autism. You never know what amazing or terrible they might do that you would have never expected.

They watch WALL-E and then watch it again; Tony doesn't really mind. Evelyn even accepts a snack bar. It's green so it's not _that_ much of a victory, but Tony wouldn't push the boy far today. There will be more appropriate times to learn.

Evelyn refuses lunch and eats another of the bars instead. Tony let him. Just today.

Everything is surprisingly calm. The message that Steve has left when the Avengers arrived in Texas is rather positive. Seems like no world saving today, at least not before noon, and that's some improvement. Fury gets to talk with the _one of the top five_ man who promptly states that he's constructed a one-way means of transportation into another realm and will use it, destroying it at the same time, and he wanted to say _goodbye_.

Which is a totally snafu, like, it's the definition of snafu in Tony's opinion. Somehow, he's learned to accept the craziness as a normal thing is his life.

He and Evelyn go back to the room and it takes full two minutes before he totally loses control. Tony knows it was bound to happen, really, it _was_, but it's no less difficult. He manages to wrap his arms around the Evelyn before the boy manages to do something to himself, like banging his head or kicking or breaking whatever he can reach, all of which he tends to do; there are screams and tears and more screams and it fucking hurts to see him like this. Tony hold him tight, knowing that Evelyn is just _terrified_, they've been through so many meltdowns before and he's always so frightened of losing control, of not understanding what is happening to him.

Tony doesn't say anything because he knows it just makes things worse, just adds to the kid's overload, he just keeps Evelyn tightly and rocks him gently ignoring the boy's occasional rapid and _forceful_ movements. It's maybe fifteen minutes before Evelyn slowly stops that and stops screaming – _wailing_ – so much and turns to sobs; Tony doesn't let himself worry too much despite how fucking painful it is; he needs to be the one in control here, for himself and for Evelyn.

'Sien, Sien, Sien…' Tony whispers into the boy's ear finally, the quietest of whispers, holding him tight and rocking him slightly. Whatever the problem might be with fabric, Evelyn never complained that actual touch hurts him; he might not like it at times and from certain people but it doesn't _hurt_.

Evelyn calms down little by little, crying less and less, trying to get out of Tony's grasp and trash around less and less, but it's almost an hour before Tony lets go of him. Evelyn is distressed and sad and angry and possibly embarrassed about the whole situation – he wouldn't know how to name those feelings but Tony knows him well enough to do this for his son.

'Evelyn?' Tony tries, but it gets no reaction from the boy. '_Sien_?'

'_Ilien_,' Evelyn breathes almost soundlessly and Tony smiles. There is the contact they need.

'Yes, baby, I'm here for you. I am here. Calm down. Are you okay? Are you safe?'

'_Okay_,' Evelyn signs. '_Safe. You. _Ilien,' he finishes aloud and looks up to meet Tony's eyes which almost makes _Tony_ melt. He nods. 'Ilien.'

'I know, baby,' Tony whispers into the boys hair. 'I know.'

* * *

When the team is back, they are back with Fury and Hill. Tony is sure they would have dragged Phil in this too, if only he was in physical condition to leave the hospital. He's asked if he could meet Evelyn a few times, but Tony doesn't trust the staff with the secret and he doesn't trust anyone to take Evelyn to where Coulson is since it would be a bit too suspicious, an unknown kid coming by with one of the Avengers – or even worse, with a stranger.

Clint told Phil. Without asking Tony first, but Tony didn't mind. He's never thought that Coulson was Fury's puppet, or anyone's for the matter. He just prefers people not to know, but since Phil is supposed to move in the tower as soon as he is allowed to, he's allowed to be informed.

JARVIS tells Tony that they are all en route to Stark Tower, Clint piloting the Quinjet. He lets himself groan quietly; this is _totally _not a good day for sharing his personal story and it's going to be a drag for both him and Evelyn.

But maybe it will shut Fury up for once.

Evelyn doesn't want to eat but he needs to and Tony tries to cajole – or maybe bribe, depending on the wording – him into having some of his tomato soup. He's failing more than managing, but it's not as bad as it could have been. Evelyn is dressed in one of Tony's Iron Man t-shirts – a prank gift from Clint that he absolutely refused to give away and proudly wears from time to time, making the archer laugh – that looks more like a dress on him, and nothing else but underwear; the t-shirt is big and loose and soft enough to make him feel okay. Or okay enough.

'We will have guests, Sien,' he tells the boy after he's managed to make him eat one more spoon of the soup; he is lucky that Evelyn prefers his food lukewarm or cold rather than hot, otherwise he would have to heat it up like every three minutes. 'They need to come and ask me a few questions. Do you want to stay with me or in your room with Flavie for a few minutes? I will make sure it doesn't take long.'

'Ilien,' the boy murmurs.

'Okay, baby,' Tony agrees. If the boy consciously decides that he wants to stay… Even easier.

Before the team actually comes, more than half an hour passes, so Tony entertains Evelyn together with JARVIS, playing a geography quiz on one of the holograms nearby. Evelyn has been very eager to learn geography since he's understood that it is very useful for reading maps and knowing places for his weather forecasts, and he's been leaning a lot about it ever since. Today's lesson is South America; Evelyn knows all the countries and capitals and the mountains already, so it's time for big rivers. Tony tells JARVIS what to show and what to hide, what to highlight, and Evelyn stares at the hologram as if it was magic. Tony knows that tomorrow he will be able to recite it all by heart.

'Sir, the Quinjet has landed,' JARVIS announces at some point and Tony blinks a few times; he hasn't realized that the time has passed already, it felt more like four than forty minutes.

'Bring them up here,' Tony asks and turns to Evelyn. 'Sien,' he states to get the boy's attention; fortunately it always works. 'Are you sure you want to stay here? There will be new people coming in.'

'Ilien,' Evelyn just says and crawls from his place on the rug beside Tony to his lap, buying his face in Tony's chest; his hands move, tickling Tony's back. 'I can't see what you are signing behind my back, Sien.'

'I am a big boy,' comes the muffled answer. 'I am sorry. I will be good.'

'You _are good_,' Tony replies immediately, hugging Evelyn a bit tighter.

'Cried,' Evelyn says, the one word explaining everything.

'Everyone cries sometimes. It's okay. You couldn't stop yourself from crying. You know I am not angry at you.'

'Don't want,' Evelyn murmurs, it's almost inaudible, muffled by Tony's clothes.

'Everyone cries,' Tony repeats.

'Okay.'

'Yes, Sien. Okay.'

'Don't die,' Evelyn says, suddenly looking up at Tony. 'Ilien. Don't die.'

'I won't die soon, baby. Don't worry. I know you miss _maman_, but – don't worry. I will always be here for you when you need me. You are more important than anything else.'

'You too,' Evelyn replies, making Tony almost let go of the boy, his limbs suddenly weak as he hears the words. _You too_, it's the most amazing thing that he's ever heard.

'I love you, baby,' Tony replies and Evelyn _giggles_ and that's exactly when the elevator opens and people pour from it, as if it was a staged movie.

'You okay?' Steve asks casually, taking in the scene and offering a smile.

'Yeah, we good, right, Sien?' Tony replies, realizing that he's holding Evelyn a bit tighter that before. Protective instinct. Clint would have said _sweet_ if it was any other situation.

'Do you need anything?' Steve continues. Tony doesn't look up to see Fury's face, or Hill's, but he can imagine them very well from the silence.

'You could grab us an Aloe Vera King each… You know which one.'

'Sure thing,' Steve replies happily and disappears in the kitchen.

'Am I seeing what I _think_ I am seeing?' Fury finally asks when Steve disappears and Bruce behind him – surely to grab some food – and the rest of team casually dissipates around the room, occupying their favorite spots.

'Well, what do you think you are seeing?' Tony questions in response, giving Evelyn a smile and looking up at Fury, not letting go of the boy in his arms. Evelyn is calm 'cause he is _tired_, Tony can tell; hell, they are both exhausted, it's emotional and physical as well and he feels – deflated, that's a right word.

'You with a fu– with a kid in your lap? In an _Iron Man_ t-shirt?'

Smooth, Tony decides, but appreciates that Fury can be considerate enough not to swear right now – probably the revelation of the day, or year; not like anyone would believe Tony if he shared.

'Well, so we know that your one eye is still working,' Tony replies mockingly. Evelyn stirs in his lap and places his head in the crook of Tony's head, his breaths tingling Tony a slightest bit. 'Someone is going to fall asleep soon,' he murmurs into Evelyn's hair, but he boy just grunts in reply and signs _no_, Tony can make that much out of the movement of the little hand below his arm. 'Whatever you sign, Sien,' he adds quietly.

Fury still stares, as well as Hill who is standing behind the director, completely silent.

'Will you eat something now? With us? It's dinnertime in a few minutes. I know we are off schedule today, but maybe you want to eat with us,' Tony repeats, knowing that everyone is the room is waiting for Evelyn's reply, even if for different reasons.

'_Yes_,' Evelyn signs. 'Clint,' he adds in a harsh voice, it's rough and painful after all the crying and shouting.

'Okay,' Clint replies and gets up, disappearing into the kitchen just as Steve enters the room with the Aloe Vera King bottles, natural for Evelyn and guava for Tony, as always. Bruce comes in a moment later with a bowl of fish crackers and box of pop tarts that be absentmindedly tosses to Thor across the room, there is a smaller bowl with cream cheese in the middle of the big one.

Everyone suddenly moves to the one big sofa in front of which Tony is sitting without a word, and Tony can't help but laugh at Fury's and Hill's bewildered faces. Tony opens his drink and takes a few sips.

'It's all organic, come on, help yourself,' Tony offers, shifting a bit to face the team.

'The food will be ready in twenty,' Bruce adds and stuffs a pop tart stolen from Thor into his mouth. Fury blinks.

'I see you are… well-integrated,' he finally comments, but doesn't move. 'I am surprised. Not to mention – _this_,' he waves in the general direction of Tony and Evelyn. 'I am too old for this shit,' he adds and Tony _glares_, 'and I am definitely too tired to try to understand what exactly is happening. Just – how long has this been going on?'

'I've known since the op in 2011,' Natasha offers promptly just as she scoops the cream cheese with her cracker.

'He's been staying with me since 2007,' Tony adds. 'Drink, Sien?' he asks Evelyn, quieter, and the boy nods, sitting up a bit in Tony's lap; he ends up resting his back against Tony's chest, in an unconsciously protective position, and tries to open the bottle, but the cap is tricky, especially when Evelyn is tired and his movement are sloppier than usual; it's one of the things that are still a challenge. After two attempts Tony takes the bottle out of his hands gently and opens it before Evelyn can get upset.

He knows very well that Hill is observing all this more scrutinizingly, with the usual frown, trying to understand, to put all the pieces together.

'How was the day?' Clint asks, entering the room and breaking the short moment of silence. '_Food ready in fifteen minutes_,' he signs to Evelyn and grabs a handful of the fish. Evelyn doesn't react, but they all know he's understood.

'Like expected. Maybe a bit better, hmm?' Tony says and takes the pop tart that Thor hands him. Evelyn doesn't like pop tarts, he just drinks his Aloe Vera slowly, playing with the cap in the meantime.

'I should be mad at you,' Fury sighs and finally sits down on the unoccupied sofa; Hill does the same but _still_ says nothing. 'I think I will be mad at you _later_ and _in private_, and well, I am pretty pissed at you all,' he continues, looking at each of the Avengers for a short moment. 'But you team loyalty is _inspiring_.'

His voice is dripping with sarcasm. A few of them laugh quietly and even Steve grins, despite not being a big fan of secrets / misunderstandings. But he is a man of strong morals and Tony loves when he gets all authoritative; it's amusing and amazing at the same time.

'I should kick you off the team,' Fury adds; it's difficult to say if he is being serious or not, the man has a damn good poker face when he wants. 'I really should, Stark. Today was enough of a reason, not to mention about a thousand times that you disappeared or disobeyed us or failed at keeping focused for like five seconds during a debrief… I am still _mad_ at you for all that –'

'_But_?' Tony prompts, arching an eyebrow, and takes a sip of his drink to make the almost painful sweetness of the cookie fade away a bit.

'Just how do you manage this, Stark? You can't even take a proper care of yourself sometimes, and you're claiming to be responsible for a child –'

'Well, you fell for my act,' Tony replies. Totally true. 'And I've got help. I've had help all along and now I have more… you know, Clint does make a neat salad,' he adds in a conspiarational voice, making the archer grin.

'Is – is something wrong with the kid?' Hill asks, cocking her head slightly, her eyes analyzing.

'Nah, he is tired,' Tony _deliberately _answers, even though he knows she doesn't really mean anything – well, probably – but it's still kinds annoying.

'But –' she starts again and Tony silences her with a grin.

'I though I'm past this stage, but well, apparently not… Evelyn is autistic – I hope that answers all your possible questions,' Tony states, taking the empty bottle and its cap from Evelyn's hands and putting them away. 'Up, baby. We will go and see what Clint made for dinner, okay? Do you want to eat with us or should I ask Flavie to come?'

'Ilien,' Evelyn states firmly as he gets up and immediately grabs Tony's hand. Tony inclines his head in agreement and squeezes the boy's fingers delicately, reassuringly.

'Whatever you want, baby. I trust you,' he says, getting up too, and gestures at the others to follow. 'Stop staring, you two, I know it must be incredibly discontenting to see me doing something else than you usually see and well, not making a fool of myself like I often do, but food is not going to wait for us. Bruce surely made plenty.'

'It's baked pasta, Tony, it's virtually impossible _not_ to make plenty,' Bruce comments drily, making Tony snicker, he has to admit that it's true. Almost scientifically proven.

'I feel like in a surreal dream, Stark,' Fury apparently feels obliged to inform, following the whole crowd to the kitchen. 'Are you sure this is not a strange dream?'

'I'd hate if it were a dream,' Tony replies quickly, laughing, but hell_, this is so true_.

When Evelyn is washing his hands and everyone is running around the kitchen, setting the table, making a quick salad, pouring drinks or whatever, Hill comes up to Tony and stands next to him without speaking, just stares. Tony is kind of bored with that by now, so he gives her a _what?_ glare.

'Is he difficult?'

'_He_ has a name,' Tony snaps, but it's mostly because he is too tired to control himself and well, he and Hill don't mix, but it's not more that he's been asked before. He sighs, handing Evelyn a towel and looks Hill in the eye. 'Yeah, okay, I guess I know what you mean. Everyone wants to know that – I don't have anyone to compare him to. I wasn't exactly a kid since I was seven and before that I was mostly learning Maths and building motherboards, so you know… But I wouldn't exchange him for any _normal_ kid, if that's what you would like to know. Sien – are you a naughty boy?' he turns to the boy who is resting his hands against the counter of the cupboard and tapping a chaotic melody with his fingers. Tony knows this one, it's a mix of two of his favorite songs from musical therapy.

'Sometimes,' the boy mutters.

'Do you try to be good?' Tony inquires, still standing in the same place.

'Yesss,' Evelyn replies forcefully, making the _s_ a hiss, and then clasps his hands together. 'Time?'

'Yes, sit by the table,' Tony says and so Evelyn does, albeit a bit reluctantly. It's hard to believe that he is acting to grown-up, compared to what he was even a year ago.

'He seems to be a… nice child,' Hill says unsurely, as if she didn't know if it's the right world or didn't know if _she_ is right.

'Gee, thanks, _Maria_,' Tony rolls his eyes. 'He is my son and he is fucking incredible,' he adds pleasantly and gestures at her to sit by the table where everyone else is already starting to eat. Evelyn, Tony notices, got his favorite green pea, avocado, mozzarella and watercress salad. Eat all the greens. The boy even eats a bit.

The table is quite during the meal; it's something that the Avengers have learned Evelyn requires to be comfortable; even if he mostly doesn't focus on what's happening around when he's got a task – and eating _is_ a task – too much noise would make his distracted and stressed. Fury and Hill follow the suit.

'Do you want to go and take a bath with Flavie now?' Tony asks when the meal is finished and everyone is moving back to the living room, seeing that Evelyn is blinking more than normally and seems generally sleepy.

'Ilien,' he still insists and Tony signs _okay_. The boy _is_ calmest with him; if he needs this, so be it.

'Why does he insist on calling you that?' Fury asks, apparently still sticking to his decision about being surprised and angry later. 'And you call him something else, too? You into nicknames, _Iron Man?_'

'Well, this is a story,' Tony starts, sitting on _his_ armchair with Evelyn in his lap, slowly slowly falling asleep. 'The time when I was back from Afghanistan he missed me _a lot. _Like, you can't being to imagine the drama we've had – but never mind… We communicated mostly by signing and the pseudo-language that we've been using between us. I explained things to him as much as I could, as much as he would understand. I showed him the first armor as soon as it was done and he _loved it_, of course he did, everyone loves it – but the point is, we've had a few long talks,' Tony stops to take a breath, it feels funny as everyone is observing him more or less obviously – none of them has heard the story before. 'I told him that when he will be old enough, we will both save the world. I said he'll be my second in command and he loved the idea. Then he came up with this thing, since we used this code that always gets to him easier, and he prefers hearing it when he is distressed and I told you already that it was a bad time – Sien – can you tell them why I call you that?'

'_Secret_,' the boy signs, actually looking at Tony for a moment and definitely seeing his father's grin. He has learned to understand smiles. Smile means happy and he likes happy. The situation is logical and as easy as that.

'You can tell them.'

Evelyn signs _okay,_ but it takes him a few moments to actually explain and Tony is still really amazed that he actually does that, instead of backing away, instead of hiding and refusing and giving up.

'Ilien…' he starts, holding Tony's hand tight for reassurance. 'Tony. Dad – it's _gold… _Sien is Evelyn. It is s_ilver_. It is… first and second.'

'You heard the expert,' Tony laughs. 'You did great, Evelyn. _Sien_,' Tony murmurs into the boys ear and Evelyn giggles at the air tickling his ear. 'I love you, baby.'

'_Love you,_' Evelyn signs.

'All the sweetness is going to rot my teeth,' Clint complains, but Tony only rolls his eyes at the archer, knowing that he is the sucker for cute in the company. Fury looks somewhere between amazed and terrified – and even Hill is sporting the tiniest grin, even though she looks as serious as always.

'So, _Nicky_, you see how things are – if I'm going to save the world, it's not for you. It's for Evelyn. And I'm always going to always put him first, before everything else. Therefore you can kick me of your team – no, wait, you can't, I think I insisted on staying a consultant what probably starts to make sense to you now – or take me in with all the extras. Package deal.'

Fury stares for a long moment, his eye moving from Evelyn's face to Tony's and back to Evelyn's, then he sighs and makes a resigned face.

'You're in,' he says finally.

Tony's face lights up and he smiles despite himself. He knows the answer would have been _no _even a few months ago. He really didn't know what to expect now and this – it's just nice.

Evelyn turns around, following everyone's gazes, and looks Tony straight in the eye; Tony stops breathing for a moment, admiring how amazing it is, as Evelyn hardly ever does that unless he is told to. For a moment Tony feels as if the world besides himself and Evelyn didn't exist.

'You are happy, daddy,' Evelyn says, blinking. '_Happy_.'

'Yes, Evelyn,' Tony admits, his voice suspiciously thick, hugging the boy tighter. 'I really am.'

* * *

**A/N: **There will be one more chapter - JARVIS - posted on Tuesday. Stay tuned!

Once again, than you for all your comments and the support you give me continuously! :)))


	9. JARVIS

JARVIS knows from the beginning that Sir has a child; he is the only one but the mother and grandmother who does.

His code is finished and he is launched some time before Sir meet Miss Annis. For four weeks and six days Sir hardly moves out of the workshop, working with and on JARVIS constantly, fixing glitches and writing patch codes, testing and teaching and learning and JARVIS does what Sir asks him to, every millisecond.

Sir has given him the ability to process information and act accordingly – as if he were self-aware. It is easy to operate in such way, being able to initiate interaction. JARVIS knows he is the only A.I. on the Earth that can do that, that can – act almost human. So when Sir meets Miss Annis and suddenly leaves JARVIS alone in the house for long hours, he processes endless unimportant information he could easily function without because he doesn't have any other tasks to do. Humans would call this _missing someone_. JARVIS doesn't call it anything, he just works a bit differently now.

* * *

A year and sixty three days after JARVIS has first registered the name _Annis_ said aloud in the house, Sir comes home and almost drinks himself to death. JARVIS can't do anything because Sir has disabled the connection to all outward databases and networks using a password that doesn't have an override. Sir's blood alcohol content is 0.30 by the end of the drinking binge and JARVIS knows very well that it may result in: stupor, central nervous system depression, unconsciousness, memory blackout, breathing impairment, bradycardia, _death_.

Sir doesn't die but he stays in the workshop at least 23 hours a day again.

Until on July 14th, 2001, Sir has a phone call.

Miss Annis tells him that he is a father. Sir freezes and then throws the welding torch he's been working with across the room and breaks the window. The torch never gets picked up by anyone, it is still buried under the ground in Mansion's lawn; JARVIS can read the signal even years later. All Sir's tools have microchip stickers so that JARVIS can tell Sir when the things are then he is looking for them.

It takes Sir nine days to go out of the workshop, out of the Mansion, and visit Miss Annis and the newborn boy in Miss Annis' house.

'We decided to name him Evelyn,' Sir tells JARVIS when he comes back.

_From an English surname which was derived from the given name Aveline. In the 17th century when it was first used as a given name it was more common for boys, but it is now regarded as mainly feminine_, JARVIS knows within less than a second. Never popular for boys. Quite popular for girls. Humans would say it is a _strange_ choice.

'Annis told me she wanted to honor one of her grandparents with the name, you know. It – it fits him. I would _never_ call my name Howard,' Sir finishes, shaking his head (anger) and smirking (disappointment).

'Congratulations, Sir,' JARVIS says. His protocols say it's customary and Sir likes when he behaves _like a gentleman_ almost as much as when he asks JARVIS to contradict him in arguments. It is difficult because there are no commands and no hints, but JARVIS is always learning.

Evelyn becomes a constant topic of conversation between Sir and JARVIS. Sir goes to see him once a month, usually between 12th and 15th day (89% cases, JARVIS doesn't know the reasons) and comes back talking a lot. More than normally (by the average of 14%). JARVIS doesn't mind. He runs calculations in the background and does all the tasks that Sir sets for him and, with the newest code upgrades, even manages to occasionally have some control over Dummy.

When Evelyn is one year old – Sir has gone to visit him the day after his birthday – JARVIS makes the first note based on Sir's descriptions. It's just like a glitch in the story Sir is telling so JARVIS doesn't inform Sir of its existence. He's been supposed to be more and more independent and he isn't compelled to report everything at the moment. He is still learning to filter the information by estimated importance for Sir.

After the next visit, JARVIS makes another note, similar to the first one. A month later Sir's words prompt JARVIS to create a file and store the notes there. A glitch. An imperfection. something is missing.

JARVIS cross-searches all available sources to match with what Sir has been telling him and there are several possible answers. JARVIS saves them all and waits for more data. It takes five more months to get an answer that is far from conclusive, but gives over 50% probability of being true. He could be faster if there was more data, but Sir's visits are never more frequent than monthly.

'Sir, I believe that a consultation with Evelyn's pediatrician might be required,' he tells Sir after Sir comes back from a delegation, five days after Evelyn has turned 20 months.

'What do you mean, J?' Sir asks, voice flat (worry), putting away the screwdriver he has in hand.

'I have been cross-matching everything you have told me about Evelyn, sir, with data available to me on baby development and I have noticed several potential problems.'

'You've been doing what?...' Sir wonders, blinking (confusion). 'Okay, shoot, baby.'

JARVIS recites everything he's been able to gather, in a shortened version; the data must be verbalized instead of just being transferred from one server to another and it requires incomparably more time. JARVIS gives Sir only an overview of the most important facts. Sir listens intently, sitting with his eyes closed and nodding to each sentence JARVIS says. When he is done, Sir seems pensive. He calls Miss Annis the next day and tells her everything.

Evelyn is officially diagnosed when he is two years and five months. JARVIS doesn't comment that it was obvious a long time before, because he knows humans aren't computers and it doesn't works like that. It's not just statistics and facts; there is a lot of possibilities of mistakes.

Sir visits Evelyn twice a month now, if his schedule allows, and talks to JARVIS the same much. It is just different topics now, slightly different. JARVIS learns everything he can about autism within the matter of seconds, but keeps the information to himself because of the usual reason. There is nothing an A.I. can do better than humans in such case.

* * *

JARVIS doesn't meet Evelyn until the day he comes with Sir to the Malibu mansion, on December 24th, 2007. A month and two days earlier he connects a call from Miss Annis' house. Her mother informs Tony that Miss Annis died in a car accident.

Sir doesn't cry (internet cross-check, about 68% of people would) but sits completely stunned for a few minutes (a completely normal and common reaction, 88%).

Mrs Morin, Miss Annis' mother, takes a month to decide that she can't take care of Evelyn. She tells Sir that she is too old (70 years and one month), that she can't manage running the household and taking care of Evelyn sufficiently at the same time. Sir assures her he understands. It takes him two weeks to explain everything to Evelyn and give him some time to prepare for the transition.

'I am waiting until he tells me we can move,' Sir informs JARVIS. He isn't sure Sir's decision is the right one, but yet again, his knowledge is mostly statistics and Sir is completely unique.

Evelyn tells Sir they can go on Christmas Eve. JARVIS cancels all previous arrangements and clears Sir's schedule as Sir is driving to get the boy.

JARVIS, given everything he knows about the boy, waits for more information, already having created a separate database for him, just like for Sir and Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes, or a collective one for all Sir's associates and for the lovers. Humans would call it _anticipation_ and _eagerness_ and _curiosity_. JARVIS calls it _acting in advance_; that what he is for. To be a step ahead of what humans can do.

The first thing that JARVIS notes, besides a stream of information about the boy's physical appearance and vital signs, is that he is not surprised by a disembodied voice at all, contrary to everyone else JARVIS has met before.

JARVIS keeps his artificial voice in low tones and quiet as he knows very well that Evelyn doesn't like too much stimuli at once and the whole situation must be therefore difficult for him. JARVIS doesn't really know what that is like because he can process almost endless – for humans – amounts of information in a short time. He accepts what Sir says though.

'Welcome to Malibu, young Sir,' JARVIS says. Evelyn blinks once, but stays standing in the middle of the hall. 'Hello, Evelyn,' JARVIS rephrases, using Evelyn's everyday words and a direct approach by the name. Evelyn doesn't react to anything but his name or surname, no nicknames, no honorifics. It's something Sir had to add to JARVIS code because before, JARVIS only used honorifics and he wouldn't have been able to act differently.

It takes Evelyn thirteen days to reply to JARVIS. It is not a bad result given than the boy says an average of 47,3 words a day. JARVIS knows that it is as much as Sir says in fifteen seconds.

Evelyn says one word.

'Light.'

It's quiet but clear and accompanied by a hand movement and JARVIS is not sure what it is supposed to mean, but given a cross-match with Evelyn's usual behavior and needs, JARVIS lowers the brightness of the light in the room to 50% of the usual level. Evelyn smiles instantly and signs _thank you _into the air; Sir has been learning ASL for some time now, to be able to communicate with the boy easier, and with new code's help JARVIS has been learning with Sir to recognize the hand movements and to translate them into words.

JARVIS has a great number of data on Evelyn already. He knows that the boy is different from anything JARVIS could have found in the internet and databases, given that he is an _individual_ and a human and the mixture of symptoms, traits and characteristics is unique to every person on the Earth.

Before, most of the data JARVIS analyzed suggested that he and the boy would think alike. Appreciation of order, extreme order; the need of finding complete information and learning everything about the subject; fascination with numbers and counting, with structure and repetition. Routines. All that made JARVIS create a potential draft of the boy and _funny thing is_, as Sir would say, that almost all of it matches. JARVIS considered Evelyn to be a little A.I. machine in a human body because the boy's mind was supposed to act similarly to JARVIS' code.

It doesn't.

Or it does, but not only. Evelyn is order and perfection in so many aspects, but he is chaos in another. He is chaos in so many aspects that JARVIS' abilities to analyze and draw conclusions are useless. He has almost learned how to predict and read Sir's behavior, but Evelyn is something different.

JARVIS familiarizes himself with the unpredictability when Evelyn has his first _meltdown_ in the Mansion and that is only on the third day of his stay. While JARVIS is looking for a clue within all the available data and his code, and at the same time tries to figure out a way to present the results of the search to Sir without adding more stimuli – Evelyn has started shouting uncontrollably and trashing around and almost hurting himself – Sir reacts _instinctively_.

He wraps his hand around the boy's body and holds him tightly. At first, Evelyn shouts and cries more, until his face is all red, but Sir doesn't let go of him. JARVIS doesn't know if it's because he _knows_ how to react or if it's because he is scared of what the boy could do if he wasn't being held down.

JARVIS has never been so aware of how he is missing _hands_.

He tries to do what he can instead. He and Sir create a sensory-free room for Evelyn and the boy starts to sleep a bit better, even though his sleep patterns are not matching the usual ones for children his age; he sleeps less and it's usually interrupted by two (39%) or three (33% of nights) breaks during which he appears to be fully awake. Sir is _always_ awake, he likes to say. Si has never needed more than 5 hours of sleep a day to feel refreshed.

JARVIS discovers that playing a soft rhythmical music in the background in Evelyn's room helps him calm down and stay composed so he creates a playlist and used it every day. He learns a lot more about Evelyn as the months pass. The boy always seems to do something unpredictable, to give JARVIS new data. JARVIS observes as Sir and Miss Potts look for appropriate nanny for Evelyn, and for therapists and schools; he helps them with finding the best possibilities, the best options.

He learns patterns and habits in Evelyn's behavior and places the information in right folders straight away, to make it easier to access later, if needed. JARVIS studies the boy's body language and speech patterns and learns the code that he is using when distresses, shared only by Sir and Evelyn. He uses it one time when Evelyn is suddenly out of control and Sir needs a minute before he can leave his current work without blowing up the house, and Evelyn reacts to JARVIS calling him _Sien _very well.

Since that day, Evelyn seems to trust JARVIS more, interacting more often. Within half a year he speaks 12% more to JARVIS (compared to the 29% overall, thanks to speech therapy and Sir's insistence; 20% of it is repeated words though, echolalia, a typical symptom in autism) and signs 38% more.

And he also types.

It's mostly questions and topics he wants to know more about and JARVIS is happy to give him the information, as long as he is not obsessing too much. JARVIS operates by Sir's commands and even if Evelyn wants _more,_ JARVIS refuses if he's had enough of a certain interaction for the day. Sir creates some games Evelyn can play with him and with JARVIS' help and tries to encourage balanced progress of the boy's education.

Sir comes back from France with Madame Reuben. Evelyn starts going to school and to his therapy appointments and everything gets a bit easier; his behavior is less erratic, he is more open and trusting, his speech develops and his social interactions are more common. Sir teaches Evelyn Maths a few levels ahead of the boys age, but Evelyn seems to be happy with that. JARVIS tries to help as often as possible, assisting Sir in every way he can with educating Evelyn, doing his usual tasks in the background.

* * *

All the stability that they have managed to create – as a family, Sir insists JARVIS is a part of it, too – is destroyed when Sir is captured in Afghanistan.

The sudden drastic change and no answers at all leave Evelyn distressed more than after his mother's death, even though Madam Reuben or Miss Potts are still there for him, every single moment of the day. Evelyn withdraws though. He doesn't utter a word (and he's been up to 209,1 words per day on average) for three months to anyone, but at least he signs a bit. He refuses to engage in activities, demanding _dad_. When he hears excuses, he covers his ears and screams; he screams almost all the time and again, JARVIS can't do anything as the usual diversion tactics don't work. Evelyn spends most of the time running away from anyone who wants to touch him and when no one is bothering him, he just sits, rocking back and forth for long periods of time, head resting on knees.

JARVIS knows it is typical, in a way. He stores the data with a special tag for further research purposes, although a situation like this happening again is not very probable (difficult to estimate, between 1 and 1,2%).

When Sir comes back, it takes him a week to make Evelyn understand that he is not going to disappear again – a reasonable assummption – and to understand that the blue light in the middle of Sir's chest is not going to disappear either; it's a new fact, new constant in the familiar routine. When Evelyn finally speaks again, JARVIS stores the audio input eagerly. Everything matches.

Sir works with Evelyn, teaching him more Maths and exercising writing and reading. Evelyn suddenly develops an obsessive love for dates the next school year, when he starts new classes. JARVIS helps him with all the research and Evelyn speaks to him more than ever, even if it's mostly all about his new fascination. JARVIS notes how the boy is patient and methodical in his way of obtaining the knowledge, just like an A.I., only that it takes hours to find, process and remember information. JARVIS can do it in milliseconds – but that is a normal state.

JARVIS asks Sir repeatedly to inform either Miss Potts or Colonel Rhodes or Madame Reuben of his worsening physical condition (average of 7,7 repeats a day), but Sir refuses. JARVIS reminds him what has happened when someone suddenly disappeared from Evelyn's life before; it is _cruel_, by human standards, but JARVIS knows how Sir operates and knows that he needs a push. Sit finally tells both Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes and vows to tell Evelyn as soon as he is _sure_, not to cause more distress to the boy.

It never happens because Agent Romanov – or Miss Rushman, as JARVIS finds out within eleven minutes; it's thirty four before JARVIS manages to break into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s database without being noticed and copying _all_ the information – appears suddenly and her agency manages to find a way out that neither Sir nor JARVIS could. There is only one source of the information, Director Fury, unavailable before.

Agent Romanov keeps her secret as Evelyn grows up and Sir and everyone else spends their time around the boy. Sir and JARVIS are there with information when Evelyn discovers his apparent love for weather and alter geography, learning all the names and numbers by heart, slowly but consequently. Sir discovers that the best training for Evelyn's creative thinking is playing legos and JARVIS discovers that it is possible to obtain custom-made pieces. He orders a selection that enables Sir and Evelyn to create very good replicas of the residential bots. Sir is surprised and tells JARVIS that _he is the best_; Evelyn is happy and actually _tells_ Sir just that – for the first time, since he's been having trouble voicing and showing his emotions since he was a toddler – and it's deemed the best birthday ever.

* * *

In December 2011 Stark Tower is ready to be inhabited, even if works on making the Arc Reactor work are still in progress. They all move to New York on the first day of spring which is ironically cold and snowy, even if the snow melts as soon as it falls to the ground (weather forecast for daytime of March 22nd: high temperature 41°F, low 36 °F, precipitation 21%, max UV index 2, wind NNE 6 mph; gusts: 16 mph, humidity: 74%, cloud cover: 90%).

It's all difficult for Evelyn because it's a complete change of environment, down to therapists and school, but things go okay, Sir says after a few days and JARVIS conforms that. Evelyn's behavior isn't as unusual as it could have been, according to statistics. The numbers tell JARVIS that a complete change is sometimes better than gradual one because it's a completely new goo fresh routine.

When the Avengers and the Chitauri happen, JARVIS can do nothing more than be with Sir in the suit, running decryption programs on Helicarrier and generally doing his job while simultaneously implementing safety protocols in Stark Tower and nearby Stark Industries facilities – and informing Happy that he needs to take Evelyn and Madame Reuben as far from New York as possible.

Then JARVIS keeps silent: when Loki enters the Tower, he says nothing. The _god_ doesn't seem to be aware of JARVIS' presence and he doesn't announce himself, following Sir's emergency protocols. It's always better to have an element of surprise – and it works when JARVIS deploys the suit as Sir is falling down the Tower. He and Sir work together, perfectly synchronized, to defeat as many of the aliens as possible; JARVIS calibrates the shots and scans the creatures, providing the best answers to Sir's queries he can without much analysis. In the meantime he updates Sir on the car's position.; Happy has been 62,3 miles out of New York by the time the portal was opened. Not safe enough but as good as possible.

JARVIS goes through a bout of _panic_, as humans would call it, as much as he is capable, when he loses connection with the suit and Sir inside after the phone call Miss Potts doesn't answer. The data on Evelyn from Sir's disappearance suddenly comes to the surface, marked with red pulsating marks – but they disappear as soon as JARVIS gets back his connection with the armor and learns that Sir is in fact okay, not unhurt – but _alive_.

Everyone important is safe. JARVIS is aware that most humans would despise an A.I. for labeling people as more or less important, as better and worse, but since there is a very limited number of people that have ever done _anything _for JARVIS and that he's had the possibility to meet _in person_, he doesn't stop himself from categorizing. It's only normal if all you are is data.

Then JARVIS keeps silent, too, when the Avengers come by. He answers Sir's questions and obeys, of course he does, but he doesn't imitate contact – he just creates a new folder, anticipated information input is huge, to catalogue the five new objects.

As he gets to meet the Avengers one by one, JARVIS run cross-match between all the data he had on the people and all important data on Evelyn (and Sir, but that is secondary) to be aware of possible problems.

The results are predictable; Prince Thor's loud speech; Captain Rogers' lack of knowledge and awareness of how to operate the world around him; Agent Barton's admiration of jokes and references and jargon-usage; Doctor Banner's overwhelming fear of breaking _anything_ at all and possible implications of such a situation.

But there are also many positive results, too. JARVIS doesn't tell Sir anything; he can't interfere with how humans live all the time. He probably shouldn't at all (81% people would say that, being afraid) but Sir encourages him, trusting JARVIS completely.

JARVIS just observes and labels the data and stores it in appropriate places.

Everything goes surprisingly well, even the meeting with Director Fury and Deputy Director Hill. JARVIS knows it's very likely because 93,2% of people seem to change attitude and apply different standards and have different expectations when it comes to people with children – especially disabled/special needs children – and even if JARVIS doesn't understand that particular label, he knows that it's how the world sees things.

When the Directors are gone, JARVIS makes sure to send them a few files to look at. It's nothing important so Sir doesn't have to know. JARVIS knows they both save some of the photos and videos on their private laptops.

The world needs its heroes and the Avengers are always there, with Sir among them. There is much that needs to be done regarding rebuilding the broken city, safety of the planet, intergalactic diplomacy, creating defensive and offensive mechanisms in case – and Sir is needed to help with most of those, JARVIS too, by extension.

Sir has less time for Evelyn but – it is not bad. The boy is growing up and he needs the push to reach out to what is around sometimes, and there is a group of extraordinary people around him now.

'Clint signs,' Evelyn explains to JARVIS before going to sleep one day; Sir is away for a meeting and Madame Reuben has tucked Evelyn in and left to let him calm down and fall asleep. JARVIS asked if he is doing well with all the new people around; it's a chance to obtain new external data – invaluable – force Evelyn to talk about his feelings, what is still _a thing_, as Sir always says, and a chance for the boy to calm down quicker by sharing the excitement of the long day. 'Thor makes storms – makes weather forecast _wrong_. I tell him to so it's okay. Bruce… green. Maths. Natasha knows history. We speak French. Steve always plays. It's nice –' the boy cuts of; JARVIS has enough data by now to guess what is the problem.

'And when they are too much, you can always come here and calm down,' JARVIS supplies, getting an _right_ sign that he can understand only thanks to his thermographic cameras.

JARVIS plays the usual music and Evelyn falls asleep in roughly four minutes, fifty seconds.

Time for a notice to be sent to Sir's StarkPad; a photo of Evelyn in bed and short report, giving the highlights of the day. It was a day full of good things, so it's easy.

There is a constant hum of equations and signs and numbers running, calculations that have been going on for hours or days, for S.H.I.E.L.D. and Stark Industries, for Sir and Bruce; there is research being gathered by one of JARVIS' subprograms, data being analyzed in a way that no other computer or A.I. can, there are things that require upgrading or fixing that Sir is constantly working on remotely; there is observing all the Earth and some space around it via the best satellites, monitoring potential threats and looking out for any sign of a disruption.

It's all just happening in the background though; JARVIS might have so many tasks now, even including _superheroing_ in duo with his creator – but Sir and Evelyn will always be more important than anything else. (One of the very few statements that can be attributed 100% veracity – and JARVIS doesn't make mistakes.)

**~ fin ~**

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you all for the amazing feedback I got on this story and your tremendous support. Indulge me with your opinion, I'm always waiting for your words! It's been an amazing experience to me, writing this story, and I hope you truly appreciated it (and maybe learned something?)

Today is **World Autism Awareness** **Day **so please show your support to those amazing and brave kids and parents and adults and keep them in your prayers!

Thank you for reading & until next time, I hope :)


	10. Phil - bonus 1

**23.12.2012 / Phil**

Phil finally gets a green light to leave the hospital just before Christmas. It should have happened weeks – if not months – earlier, but an infection happened and while it wouldn't do much harm to a healthy adult, in Phil's post-surgery state, with his messed up heart and lung, it hit pretty hard. He is all right now, though. Still a bit on the weaker side and not as lithe as he used to be, but he's getting there.

He knows that the team has been living in Stark's tower for over two months now and according to everyone's reports, they are actually getting on pretty well and they've managed _not_ to kill or harm themselves accidentally – it wouldn't be _that_ impossible, given that there is the Hulk on the team, and a few hot-headed men – and Phil can't wait to see it with his own eyes.

Moreover, he can't wait to meet Evelyn.

It's strange because Phil has never had much contact with children and he's not sure he even likes them, but he's heard a lot of positive things about the boy from Clint and the rest of the team.

Evelyn is eleven and a half now, so it's not like he is a baby, he shouldn't be a big problem, even if he is autistic. Phil had to admit that he still didn't know enough about autism, so he's done some more research to know better what he can expect, and then confronted his new knowledge with what everyone has been telling him. Pepper answered all the questions he had, so he feels quite prepared.

It's still difficult to believe that Tony has a child, Phil can't imagine him playing a father, especially because of Howard and his relationship with Tony. Phil's been there when Tony told Nick that his father never told him he loved him, never told him he liked him, and he's heard the bitterness and the long-buried grief in Tony's voice. Though apparently, Tony is nothing like his father.

'Hey, you ready, Phil? Or lost in the nostalgia for this place?' Clint's voice cuts through his thoughts and Phil looks up to see his boyfriend staring at him with a grin. Oh. It's been a very long time since Clint managed to sneak up on him.

'I don't want to stay here even five more minutes,' he replies, getting up from the armchair and looking around his – well, not anymore – room. 'I am sure you share the sentiment.'

'Sure I do. Your bag?'

Phil gestures at the duffle waiting on the bed and before he can take a step it's already slung over Clint's shoulder.

'All the paperwork done?'

'I just need to sign one more document for the head nurse and then we can go,' Phil explains, walking out of the room. Three minutes later he is free to go. The nurses all say his goodbye and wish him good luck as he walks out of the ward; it feels like he's in some movie, the only things lacking are a cake and a song. Well, that could still happen when he comes to the tower, he wouldn't even be surprised.

'Tony let you borrow his car?' he asks Clint, blinking a few times at the sight of the perfect luxurious machine standing in front of the hospital, standing out in the sea of snow-covered _normal_ cars.

'He knows I'll treat her like a holy thing,' Clint explains, dropping the duffle into the trunk. 'Come on, get in, it's not getting any warmer out here.

Phil obeys – Clint it very right with his comment about weather, it is cold and snowy, perfect for Christmas – and a moment later they are driving though the streets at a speed well over the allowed, but Phil knows Clint's reflexes and trusts him to drive safely. And probably no cop in New York would even try to stop a car with Stark's name on the license plate.

They arrive to the Tower in no time, or at least it feels like that: Phil is staring intently at everything around, taking it all in and reminding himself to breathe. After spending over half a year inside one building, with only a few trips to the small part at the back, the city seems huge and overwhelming, even if in a positive way.

Clint parks the car underground and takes the duffle again, gesturing at Phil to follow him, and a moment later they are in the elevator.

'We go to out floor first, I need to leave the bag and you might want to change into some lighter clothes. We're going upstairs for dinner – everyone is here – and the penthouse is always pretty warm.'

When they enter _their floor_, Phil immediately likes the space, quite different from what he has expected; it's much more domestic and warmer than other parts of the tower that he's seen before.

'Tony let us decorate like we wanted,' Clint explains, noticing his curious looks. 'I figured I'd use the opportunity to make this place more of what we've always wanted… You know, when we talked about renovating our old apartment…'

'It's amazing,' Phil says and he means it. Tony really doesn't do anything by halves. 'So, where is the bathroom?'

Clint navigates him through the floor and watches him from across the room when Phil washes his face and changes into some more comfortable clothes.

'You'll want nothing more than a t-shirt,' Clint tells him when he starts to put on a cardigan.

'Huh?'

'It's warm up there. You'll be hot. Trust me.'

'… okay,' Phil agrees, putting the piece of clothing back. 'If you are sure. We go?'

'Yes, boss,' Clint replies with a salute and leads Phil to another elevator. 'There is a staircase, but we're going five floors up. Steve's the only one who uses the stairs anyway,' Clint explains, winking at Phil who rolls his eyes. It's not like he'll be going up and down the stairs only because Steve happens to use them; he's grown pretty used to his idol's presence.

When they step out of the elevator, the first thing Phil notices is a loud pained wail echoing in the big open space of the penthouse; the next thing he knows is Pepper's face in front of him, offering him a small smile, and then her arms pulling him into a hug.

'JARVIS told me you finally got here,' she says as soon as she lets go of him. 'You're looking good, Phil,' she adds, eying him from head to toe. 'Ah, and sorry for the mess, Tony's taking Evelyn downstairs, he's just feeling a bit sick today – come on, let's get to the whole crowd – and no, there are no balloons waiting for you, although I had hard time talking Tony out of it –'

Phil just nods, trying to systemize Pepper's words in his head and taking in the surroundings at the same time. The penthouse is looking a bit different from what he remembers, a few changes has been made during the renovation after Loki's visit, he notes; it's nicer now. Feels more like home than an exhibition space.

All the Avengers plus Colonel Rhodes are in the kitchen, mostly seated by the big table; Bruce is stirring something on the stove and Thor is pouring wine into everyone's glasses. There at least twelve different foods on the table but Clint has warned Phil that feasts like that happen at least once a week these days; it's a different thing to hear about them than to take part though.

There is a wave of smiles and greetings when the three of them approach the table.

'Sit down,' Clint whispers into Phil's ear, pointing at two empty places between Steve and Natasha. 'Talking time later, now we eat.'

'And Tony?' Phil asks, sitting down as said and offering Natasha a small wry smile.

'Sir will be in the kitchen in approximately seventy seconds,' JARVIS states. Bruce nods to himself and takes the pan off the stove; Thor puts the empty bottle away and drops into a seat next to Steve. Pepper and Rhodey exchange a look and a soft nod; Phil notices it because it's his job to notice everything, and he wonders what exactly it might mean.

Tony does come in a moment later and before he even approaches the table, he starts talking.

'Here I officially welcome you to the Avenger's lair, Agent. We are happy to have you here instead of living a boring life in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s barracks. Fell at home, do your best at doing whatever crazy stuff comes to your mind, you will know if you cross a line – and not even Clint has managed to do that yet, so no worries – and please, when we are done, add yourself to the list on the fridge and share what food you're good at preparing since we're making an effort here not to live on takeouts and no, I don't have a chef – okay, now I am getting distracted,' he stops the stream of words for a breath and gives Pepper's a quick kiss on the forehead before sitting down. 'Anyway, welcome and all that. Happy meal, people,' he finishes and takes the pasta bowl to serve Pepper and himself.

It's like a sign before then everyone starts to move and talk and laugh at the same time and in a few minutes all the plate full. Phil has to admits the food is really good.

Then, for a few moments, the noise dies down as everyone eats.

The atmosphere here is simple and _homey_ and Phil can't remember feeling like that for decades; sure, his time with Clint – and sometimes Natasha too – is always lovely, but three are too few to feel the special atmosphere that usually accompanies family reunions.

There is talking time after the main meal and before dessert – Phil is not sure how is this possible, but they all actually manage to eat some of it – and then everyone starts to slowly disappear, retiring to their rooms, even though it's only early evening. They are probably going to prepare for Christmas, since the whole team will be celebrating together.

In the end it's only Tony, Pepper, Clint and Phil by the table – but then Clint offers Pepper an arm and they walk out before Phil can say anything.

'I thought I could spare you the guessing and all the jazz,' Tony says, looking at Phil curiously over table covered with empty plates. 'Wanna meet Evelyn? I was hoping he'd eat with us, but he's not feeling too well today, so I thought better let him rest…'

'Yeah, I heard him shouting when we came in,' Phil replies, observing Tony's reactions closely. Tony closes his eyes for a second and makes this tiny nod, and when he looks at Phil again, his eyes look tired.

'Yeah, you know, winter's a thing here,' he offers, shivering slightly. 'Sensory stuff. Evelyn hates the cold and hates having to wear so many clothes. And now he's got a cold and a headache and he's just overstimulated. And that usually ends up in a loud meltdown, but at least those don't last long. Usually.'

'I wondered why it's so warm here,' Phil tell him, glancing unconsciously at Tony's mostly bare arms – he is wearing just a thin t-shirt, the reactor shining through it easily. 'My first thought was that you wanted a personal Malibu here, I must admit.'

'I can't say I'm not enjoying this. And ugh, Agent, feelings here, I miss Malibu like hell. It's the only good place to be in the winter.'

'Then why don't you – Evelyn, right?' Phil realizes mid-sentence. Tony nods.

'Yeah, he's had a hard time getting used to being _here_, so travelling there and back in not really an option. But you see, we're short a palm tree – _whoa_. An idea. JARVIS, make note – thanks, Agent. Phil. Whatever. Sorry. I seriously didn't get enough sleep within the last few months,' he babbles, making Phil smirk a bit, 'He should be all right now. Was calm when I left him in his room. He's been waiting to meet you, Clint told him all the stories about you.'

'I must say I was surprised that Clint is so crazy with your son.'

'I know, I told him the same thing!' Tony exclaims happily. 'I believe I asked him if he was an instant buddy machine… I don't think he replied to that. But yeah. Evelyn loves that he's so straightforward and that he signs, and well, you have to agree that the man is like a big kid himself.'

'I have to,' Phil agrees. Tony stands up and heads for the elevator, Phil follows. 'I thought you were a big brat just until a few months ago,' he adds.

'Oh boy, sometimes I really am,' Tony laughs as they enter the elevator. He doesn't press any buttons, but it starts moving as soon as the doors are closed anyway. 'I know it might be hard to believe, but I am still the very same person that you've known for some time. Evelyn changes things, but not that drastically.'

'Weren't you afraid?' Phil asks, trying to stifle the twinge of nervousness; it's not like him to be anxious, but he really wants the kid to like him. Clint would be disappointed otherwise.

'Man, I was _terrified_,' Tony admits, stepping out of the elevator. 'I know Clint told you a lot so you know I knew about him from the beginning, but being a once-a-month visitor didn't qualify you for being a parent… Then things happened and I found myself with a non-verbal kid whose world has just been turned upside down sitting in my living room. But I didn't have a choice and then – it turned out I was not that bad with him, even for longer periods of time,' Tony continues, stopping in front of a white door. 'We're best buddies now, seriously, and the best way to bring up a child – what am I saying, I can't believe I'm _moralizing_ like that, let me rephrase it – the best way that works _for us_ is being friends. Come on,' he adds and the doors open by themselves. JARVIS' doing, Phil is sure. Tony's being himself so much; he doesn't even make a pause to draw a breath.

'I brought our newest housemate to meet you, Evelyn,' Tony says into the thick darkness that fills the room, and a shy giggle follows; a second later the room is filled with soft greenish light and Phil can see the boy sitting in the middle of the room, half undressed, quickly putting something into a small box in front of him. 'Say hello?'

'Hello,' the boy repeats after Tony, staring at his hands. Not that Phil has expected eye contact when he is still a complete stranger.

'Hello,' he says, crouching in front of the boy, but keeping a safe distance so that Evelyn wouldn't feel uncomfortable. 'Clint has told me a lot of things about you.'

The boy beams when he hears Clint's name and looks up at Phil for a brief moment.

'You feeling better now?' Tony asks, walking up to the boy, sitting down on the floor and scooping him into his lap in one fluid movement.

'_Yes,_' Evelyn signs. Phil is not as good at ASL as Clint, but he knows his share of signs.

'So, what do you have in the box? Hiding something from us?'

'No,' Evelyn says, starting to play with his hands. He is executing the movements surely and quickly as if it was a practices ritual, and maybe it is. 'Gifts,' he adds in a whisper and Tony's eyebrows shoot up.

'I though I helped you with packing all the gifts?' he asks curiously, eying the box, and then gestures at Phil to sit down.

'Not _all_.'

'Can we see?' Tony asks softly, moving the boy slightly in his lap to meet his gaze; Evelyn doesn't look away.

'Special,' Evelyn offers. Phil wonders if it means something, but Tony's surprised face tells him it doesn't. 'J?'

'Evelyn decided that there are three more people that he needs to find gifts for,' the A.I. explains smoothly and Phil almost flinches at the sudden voice. 'It was a few weeks ago and we worked on making his project real.'

Evelyn has this shy grin on his face now that Phil is familiar with – Clint does something similar when he does something he shouldn't have done, but knows that the result is a good thing. Then the kid gives thumbs up at the ceiling.

'May I suggest you look into the box?'

'Evelyn, can Phil look into the box first?' Tony asks the boy and he nods in response, his eyes focused on his hands again.

Phil moves over to reach the box, slowly takes off the lid, giving Evelyn the possibility to change his mind, but when there is no sign of protest, he looks inside and – he smiles in amazement.

Clint has explained that living in the Tower might mean encountering strange things quite often, and robots appearing out of nowhere are pretty normal. Phil has been instructed in what he can expect and he was showed photos of Tony's three favorite bots that the genius apparently calls his kids as eagerly as he calls Evelyn his son.

There are replicas of the three bots inside, made out of legos, obviously custom-made and them hand-adjusted, as if painted, and they look _exactly_ like the real things.

Evelyn is throwing Phil unsure glances, so Phil hands the box over to Tony.

'It's amazing,' Phil tells the boy with a smile and Evelyn beams at him. 'It was a very good idea indeed,' he adds and observes Tony's reaction at the contents of the box.

Tony looks inside, freezes, takes a slow deep breath, and then bites his lips and smiles at the same time, eyes shining; he really looks happier than Phil has ever seen him.

'JARVIS helped you with making these, hmm?' Tony says, his voice low, and Phil feels a bit like he's interfering a scene too intimate for him to observe, but Tony doesn't seem to mind. 'Phil is right, you are amazing,' Tony kisses the boy on the forehead, making him giggle. 'You are such a big boy now, doing things all on your own,' he adds, sounding damn proud, and it only makes sense; that is a big thing for autistic kids, learning their independence, Phil knows.

Then Evelyn whispers something Phil can't hear into Tony's ear, and his face immediately changes into half-stunned and half-awed.

'Can Phil stay and see?' he asks, giving Phil a look, and when Evelyn signs _yes_, he adds, 'JARVIS, give up a window here. Three minutes.'

Nothing seems to change – but there is no answer, so Phil assumes the A.I. is already disengaged within the room.

'Show me that thing, Evelyn,' Tony encourages the boy, and a second later the three lego bots are on the floor and Evelyn is working on something inside the box with his little fingers – _oh_. The box has double bottom, it seems, and under the fake one apparently he hid a folded piece of elegant stationery paper.

'Made 't in car,' the boy explains, handing the paper to Tony, and Phil understands: whatever is hidden inside is a Christmas gift for JARVIS that Evelyn had to hide because the A.I. is almost omniscient inside the tower.

'_Oh_,' Tony breathes, looking stunned, and puts the paper back into Evelyn's hand.

The boy gets up, walks up to Phil – this itself is a great achievement, given his general dislike for strangers – and shows him the paper with one word written in deep blue ink, in a much neater handwriting that he would have expected from a kid, and it says _Anien. _Phil immediately recognizes the pattern, Tony himself has told him about the names and the secret code he uses sometimes with his son. He'd like to ask what this one means, but it's not that important now.

'You – you gave him a _name_,' Tony states, bewildered, looking at the boy with a wide smile.

'Yesss,' Evelyn replies, crouching in the middle of the room and grabbing the box, quickly stuffing the paper underneath the fake bottom and putting the lego-bots inside. When it's done he goes back to sit in Tony's lap. 'J is – _ah – _family,' he in a whisper.

Phil suddenly remembers that Tony asked JARVIS for three minutes; Evelyn seems very aware of the limited time.

'Dad?'

'I am so, so proud of you,' Tony says into Evelyn's hair, hugging the boy tightly.

So, when JARVIS said there were _three more people_ that Evelyn thought of, he called the bots people. The A.I. is his family as possibly his best friend the way he seems to understand Evelyn completely. It's – it's so obvious that he boy is Tony's son, even forgetting the appearance similarities, given how the boy seems to treat the world around him.

'Keep them hidden until tomorrow, little prince,' Tony tells the boy after a few moment of comfortable silence. 'J, call Flavie, we'll be going,' he adds and Evelyn gets up from his lap immediately without prompting. 'It's his bath time in a few minutes,' Tony explains, standing up, and Phil does the same. 'I will come tuck you in,' Tony assures the boy who is putting the box into a drawer he's just opened. He nods in agreement without looking at Tony, and then Tony and Phil leave the room. Phil can just guess the French woman will come any moment.

'Sorry we got a little teary there and there was no proper introduction or something,' Tony says as soon as they are outside the room, 'but you know, you just have to go with the flow sometimes, whatever happens – god, he is so fucking smart,' Tony adds, shaking his head in wonder, walking towards the elevator absentmindedly.

'He does seem like a smart kid,' Phil admits lightly. 'It was very thoughtful of him, what he did.'

'You know,' Tony starts, sighing, 'I just start realizing now that he's _really_ growing up, and you know, the team moving in only speeds things up – he has to deal with all those new people and new challenges and he's adapting to it quicker than I would have ever expected… He's starting to be more independent – you do realize it was him and JARVIS who ordered the custom Lego pieces, really, I knew _nothing_ – and he'll just never cease to amaze me.'

'I can only imagine,' Phil offers, entering the elevator after Tony. 'I look forward to getting to know him better.'

'You know what?' Tony asks, suddenly smirking amusedly. 'I can't wait to see everyone's when we exchange the gifts, and _boy_, I can't wait to – _you know_,' Tony adds, looking up at the ceiling for a second and ten winking.

Phil _knows_ because Tony doesn't finish the sentence aloud. He can't wait to see JARVIS' reaction. The A.I. has known Evelyn for years, but it seems that only now he's become Evelyn's friend and confidant of sorts on a new level that gains him a new rank in the boy's personal hierarchy – or maybe it's to distinguish him from all the new _friends_ Evelyn is making these days… Either way, it's more thoughtful that Phil would have expected from an eleven-year-old.

'Your level,' Tony tells Phil and he realizes that the elevator took them the few levels down instead a level up, to the penthouse, like Phil expected it to. 'Well, do some sightseeing, Agent, or help Clint wrap his presents, watch Supernanny, do whatever it is that you like to do when there is no paperwork pending – yeah, you know… It's good to have you here.'

'Thanks for having me here,' Phil says earnestly. 'And thanks for letting me in,' he adds and steps out into the dark corridor. 'Until breakfast?

'We eat pretty early,' Tony says, rubbing his nose. 'Go on, indulge yourself and sleep in. You've earned it. And Thor doesn't go up until afternoon, so it's not like waffles will suddenly disappear,' he laughs, salutes, and then the doors close.

'JARVIS, could you please give me some light here?'

'Of course, Agent Coulson,' the A.I. replies smoothly and soft light immediately appears in the corridor.

Phil makes a mental note to practice some ASL with Clint, and maybe show Evelyn his comic book collection, if the boy is interested, since he knows Tony is not such a big fan. He can expect that, as long as he's staying in one space with Clint, being around the boy a lot is inevitable – but he thinks he can share. And he realizes that living here will be something else – something more – than he has expected, even after hearing stories from all the Avengers.

He can't wait to discover what other surprises are waiting for him back in the real world.

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, this chapter was never supposed to happen, but then it did :) It just felt like something was missing here. In my head I call it a bonus (and I think there might be more sometime...)

Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little chapter, please let me know?

(And feel free to suggest who you'd like to see, I can't promise anything but I might get inspired, who knows ;p)


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